


Forbidden Fruit

by merrihael



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Characters, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Sex, Bittersweet, Boys In Love, Childhood Friends, Confessions, De-Aged Characters, Falling In Love, Fingering, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Memories, Mutual Pining, Pining, Prince and the Pauper au but only a little bit, Secret Crush, kisses lots of kisses, slowburn, y'all these aint in order oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-17 19:36:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13665873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrihael/pseuds/merrihael
Summary: Keiji’s laughter fizzled out, and he opened his eyes, looking up at Bokuto, who stayed hovering above him, the heels of his hands digging into the earth. The sun caught the green in his eyes. Bokuto swallowed. Keiji smiled at him, a little confused, a little shy, and Bokuto was a goner. He slumped dramatically to one side, and buried his face in the grass – causing the giddy Keiji to laugh – and tried to calm himself. If Keiji heard the pitiful groan that escaped Bokuto’s lips, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he dug into the watermelon that Kuroo had somehow managed to smash open. Bokuto didn’t join them for a while, instead choosing to lie in the grass and try to come to terms with his world-shaking realization:He was in love with Keiji.ORWhen he watched the King’s bastard son step foot in Fukurodani Castle, Bokuto never suspected what an impact the boy would have on his life.  Keiji is quiet, and sweet, and royal -  everything Bokuto is not, so why does he feel so drawn to him? Political unrest in their country opens a door for him - and he’s running through before he’s thought twice about it. But what is the cost of picking the forbidden fruit?





	1. Modest Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mikharlow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikharlow/gifts).



> This is a (very self-indulgent on my part), long overdue, gift for the Nik to my Damen, Becks. Originally started as a lucid dream from when I was in Poland over the summer, lonely, overheated and with no internet. It grew to.. this, whatever _this_ is. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Most boys his age, as well as some grown men, would be jealous of Bokuto’s job. He too, quite liked being apprenticed to the Gamekeeper at the royal castle of Fukurodani. But while the raggedy boys running through the streets of the city dreamed of gold, beautiful ladies, brave, weathered knights and the stories they’d tell, Bokuto knew the cruel reality. Nobody with royal blood – and certainly not the ladies, who spent their days sewing and whispering behind embroidered fans – paid attention to those like him, born from among the lower class, smelling distinctly of dog, leather and hay. The soldiers, the knights in shining armor from the legends and tall tales... they just liked to boss him around, rush him to fetch their horses and “make sure you oil the hooves!”. Bokuto hadn’t heard a single tale from them in all his years at the castle, but he didn’t let the opinion of others bother him. What was that saying? “The wolf does not concern itself with the opinions of sheep”? Bokuto would very much like to be a wolf, like the ones that came closer to the keep during the winter months. Wild, free to hunt and run as they pleased.

 

The royal family – the Akaashi family – didn’t look like they’d make interesting conversation, not even the King’s son, the crown prince and heir, close to him in age. They didn’t look approachable in the slightest, with their tightly-laced clothes and high collars and an overpowering aura of brooding. Gods forbid anyone heard him say that, though. The people of Fukurodani were very protective of their royal family’s honor, and one bad word against their name could end with Bokuto’s head on a pike.

 

Bokuto had only one treasured friend, with whom he spent all of his days off, and some of the days on which he should be working, too. A messy-haired boy his age named Kuroo, with the most _mischievous_ grin he’d ever seen on a human being, who was apprenticed to the royal assassin and _loved_ to enthuse about how interesting his job was, as opposed to Bokuto’s animals and the wonderful task of mucking out the stables.

 

✧

 

Their opinion of the royal family – or at least some of it’s members – changed drastically one particularly cold and harsh winter, when the wind howled and snowstorms plagued the city and surrounding villages. Word had it that the furthermost villages were suffering from famine, but the roads were inaccessible to any sort of aid that might have been sent their way. Even the wolves had moved further south, seeking food. Not a single howl had been heard since the snows came.

 

Bokuto and Kuroo were both eleven years old. Dawn had barely broken, when there was an incredibly loud banging at the front gate of the castle. It spooked the hounds, who started yapping loudly, and Bokuto tumbled out of bed and out into the cold air to calm them before they woke the royal family. Kuroo appeared not too long after, looking considerably more awake, still fiddling with the clasps on his cloak. His mentor, always sent him out to investigate the comings and goings at the gates, no matter how early or late the knock came. The shrewd old spymaster was good at his job, but it was Kuroo who had to brave the morning cold. The misfortune of an apprentice.

 

The hounds fell silent after one look from Bokuto – a small relief he could thank his inborn gift for. The Skill allowed him to hear the thoughts of animals and understand their impulses. In some cases, he could influence their behaviour, but he never liked doing it. It felt wrong, as if merely listening in wasn’t intrusive enough. As with all things Bokuto loved, the Skill was shunned among the higher classes, because “if one shares a mind with a beast, he too will become like a beast”. Bokuto didn’t care; the Skill made him an excellent gamekeeper, better than his own tutor, and it made situations such as this much easier. And what was better than the company of animals who understood his need for freedom and fresh air? He hadn’t tried linking minds with the wolves that roamed outside the walls – he’d heard awful things of the Skilled ones who’d done so in the past; tales of blood, hunger and madness. That didn’t stop him from looking out at them wistfully whenever he got the chance, though.

 

As the hounds fell asleep one by one in his comforting presence, Bokuto decided that the cold had made him far too awake to return to bed – and breakfast would be served soon anyway, he could snag that blissful spot by the fireplace, which was usually occupied by the senior servants who liked to tease him for his hair. So, he trudged on through the snowy morning in the direction his friend had gone moments before. He found Kuroo peeking out from behind a pile of broken barrels, golden eyes fixed on the guard as he slowly made his way to the gate. The banging came again, more insistent this time.

 

‘Alright, alright! Quit your bangin’, I’m comin’!’ the guard yelled, annoyed, as he struggled with the buckle on his sword belt. The banging, obediently, stopped. Bokuto and Kuroo watched with bated breath as the guard hauled the gate ajar, and an elderly man walked in, holding a young boy firmly by the arm.

 

‘A thief?’ Bokuto asked in a whisper. Kuroo just shrugged, trying to memorize every detail of both the man and the boy to report to his mentor. The boy was around their age, perhaps a little younger, and didn’t look guilty – or starved – enough to be a thief. He was pretty, too pretty to be just anyone, Bokuto decided, and reminded him of someone. He couldn’t quite place _who_ , however.

 

‘What’s all this?’ the guard asked, voice thick from sleep. He was annoyed, having been unpleasantly roused. Nothing _ever_ happened at the royal castle, so the guards allowed themselves to sleep comfortably, even if on duty. The strange man pushed the boy forward. He stumbled, but kept his balance, and looked up at the guard. Curious, but not scared.

 

‘The King’s bastard, that’s what.’ The guard’s jaw dropped slightly, and he looked down at the boy, running a hand through his thinning hair. Bokuto drew in a sharp breath, excitement welling deep down in his chest. Kuroo stifled a giddy laugh and jogged on the spot – _finally_ something interesting was happening! ‘It’s a tough winter, and I got enough mouths to feed without this one runnin’ around and eatin’ for nothin’. Let the one that fathered him feed him, I ain’t got enough.’

 

‘Well I’ll be damned…’ The guard began, then, as if remembering he was a representative of the state, righted himself. Bokuto snickered at his lapse in discipline – thankfully the Commander wasn’t anywhere nearby. The big, burly man would have the guard mucking out stalls for a month for the mistake.  ‘I mean… we’ll see what the King wants done with him.’ The guard blinked down at the boy, certainly admiring the uncanny resemblance between the bastard son and his father – it was so obvious once it had been pointed out.

 

‘Do whatever _his majesty_ wants.’ The boy’s escort snorted, pushing the title out of himself like it disgusted him. Bokuto saw Kuroo frown out of the corner of his eye. ‘I ain’t taking him back. Throw him to the wolves for all I care.’ He threw over his shoulder as he stalked out of the gate, throwing one last look full of hatred at the bastard. Then he was gone, the gate sliding shut after him.

 

The guard stared down at the boy, scratched his beard and knelt down in front of him, straightening his shabby winter coat. The boy looked at him without any emotion, as if he was nothing else but one of the dolls the kitchen girls liked to play with on warm summer nights. It sent a shudder down Bokuto’s spine.

 

‘What’d they call you, boy?’ The guard’s voice carried over the courtyard to Bokuto’s ears, and he leaned further out from behind the barrels, only to almost topple Kuroo, who was doing the same. They latched onto one another in a panic, barely managing to right themselves before they fell and caused a ruckus. Bokuto strained his ears to hear the name, while Kuroo stopped breathing altogether.

 

‘Keiji,’ came the quiet, yet unafraid answer. Despite being considerably smaller than the guard – and the intimidating form of the sword at said guard’s side – Keiji clearly wasn’t about to burst out crying like the other boys that were brought to the castle. Some accused of stealing, some volunteered as stable boys, some for mysterious crimes Bokuto never managed to find out. And the few that made Bokuto’s heart bleed – Skilled ones, hated by their families for their gifts, considered an abomination and responsibility of the state. They never lived long. Instead, Keiji looked at the guard with a kind of stoic elegance – just like a prince would. As if he was perfectly aware of his own heritage.

 

‘Well, Keiji.’ The guard stood up and dusted off his knee – the snow left a wet patch on the light gray material – and took Keiji firmly by the hand. ‘Let’s see what his majesty wants done with you.’

 

As the guard and the bastard disappeared into the main castle, Kuroo whistled quietly. ‘Well, I’ve got a report to make.’ He patted Bokuto’s shoulder, still grinning like a madman. For a beastmaster like Bokuto, the arrival of the King’s – possible – bastard meant one more person to teach how to ride a horse at most, a new hound or falcon to train at least. For Kuroo, as a spymaster, it meant another person whose habits he and his mentor had to learn and monitor, and, since a bastard was a powerful tool in warfare, another person they had to watch over. ‘See ya.’

 

✧

 

Many things changed that winter. The court they had known was gone forever, with the arrival of one, seemingly unimportant boy.  The King – to his wife’s great disappointment – decided Keiji should stay in the castle. “Can’t have royal bastards cluttering up the countryside,” was what one of the guards had told Bokuto when he’d tried to find out more. Then, he’d told him to scamper off to his horses and stop bothering him. Keiji – who turned out to be a rather quiet boy of ten – was set to work as one of the court scholar’s assistant, refilling ink pots, cleaning quills and tidying paper for his half-brother’s lessons. Kuroo and Bokuto adopted him as one of their own, dragging him along on their adventures, making him partake in their pranks and sharing their free time with him. Eventually, he became as close with them as they were with one another.

 

✧

 

It was during the spring festival of their twelfth year that Bokuto realized for the first time just how close he and Keiji had become. As always, all the servants that were forced to attend to the royals and visiting nobles on the day of the actual celebration, held their own festival the day before, on the banks of the river flowing just outside the keep walls. They sat on a grassy bank, among a kaleidoscope of wild flowers, watching as the lanterns floated past them and out into the great big world. The sun had long set, painting the colors in beautiful tones of red, gold and yellow. It was moments like these, when nature was so marvellous that it took his breath away, that Bokuto understood why the Queen’s half-mad brother kept on painting, even if he never got the attention his art deserved. There was magic in everything.

 

Keiji’s legs were in the water, splashing gently and creating ripples that flowed out from the bank, until they were broken and swept away by the current. Bokuto sat behind him, his knees to his chest, tugging the blanket he’d nicked from the stables closer around his shoulders. Kuroo sat cross legged on a rock nearby, balancing a wooden flute precariously on his knee as he attempted to figure out how to work his harmonica – a gift from his mentor. All around them, on both banks of the river, and in the boats that sailed down the river with the lanterns, servants and common folk alike were singing, dancing, enjoying the beauty of spring.

 

Bokuto didn’t realize what he was doing until he’d woven four daisies into Keiji’s curls, and the boy had leant back against his knees, a smile of pure bliss on his face. He looked beautiful like that – eyes half-shut, smiling, the light from the lanterns dancing on his face.

 

‘S-sorry!’ Bokuto stuttered out an apology, hands freezing mid-way through weaving another daisy into Keiji’s hair.

 

‘It’s okay,’ Keiji just smiled, drawing his knees up to his chest and making himself comfortable against Bokuto’s knees. ‘I like it.’ For some unknown reason, Bokuto’s heart hammered in his chest at that.

 

Kuroo gave up on his harmonica, chucking it and the flute onto the grass next to Bokuto. He looked at them, golden eyes seeming to glow like a cats’ in the firelight. For a while, he watched as Bokuto’s fingers worked on Keiji’s hair. Then he jumped off his rock, and, plopping himself down behind his friend, ran his fingers through Bokuto’s hair.

 

‘Try to keep still.’ he said, as his fingers parted and tugged at Bokuto’s hair. ‘I’ll make you look like one of the marzannas they’re gonna burn tomorrow!’ Marzannas, straw deities with flowers in their hair, with flowers for dresses and jewellery. Bokuto snorted, and allowed Kuroo to weave the first dandelion into his hair – but not without considerable effort. The dandelion’s stem was far from co-operating, and Bokuto’s hair liked to stand up on end, not allow itself to be twisted this way and that in the wake of Kuroo’s artistic muse.

 

Later, Keiji wove bluebells into Kuroo’s wild curls, and they lay in the grass, pointing out stars to one another – Kuroo showing off his knowledge of constellations, and telling the story of the Hydra, now immortalised in the stars. Keiji listened to his story with curiosity, and Kuroo revelled at the audience. Bokuto had heard this story before – Kuroo had sought him out in the stables the first time he’d heard it, and they’d spent the afternoon dramatically re-enacting the tale – and instead found himself looking at Keiji. At his long lashes, his curls, his eyes, the color of the finest jewels. Keiji really was the prettiest boy he’d ever seen – and there was a constant flow of them coming in and out of the castle. But Keiji was not only unfairly pretty… he was also kind. He put up with Bokuto’s antics, with his high highs and low lows. Bokuto knew well enough that he could be annoying sometimes, yet Keiji was never mad at him for long. Sure, he chided him when it was necessary, but never too much… Bokuto’s heart began to hammer again.

 

✧

 

It took Bokuto two years to solve the mystery of his hammering heart. Two years filled with laughter, with pranks, with hard work and the wonderful feeling of wind in his hair as he and his friends ‘borrowed’ the palace work horses and took them out for a run through the city streets, wreaking havoc.

 

Bokuto was fourteen years old – four more years until his apprenticeship was done! – and the three of them had snuck out of the castle on a lazy summer day to the river. The streets had been empty as they’d walked, the citizens resting in the shade, away from the boiling heat. Kuroo snagged a watermelon as he walked, and Bokuto procured a few bottles of something that looked like apple juice. He wasn’t sure what it was, but, since it was from a food stand, the chances of it being poisonous were comfortably low.

 

The water was delightfully cold when Bokuto stuck his foot in it. They were on one of the larger, tree-covered islands on the river, which had its own bay. It was the perfect place three servant boys could run off to when they did not want to be found. He took four steps back, until his back met the rough bark of a tree, and, letting out a loud whoop, ran straight into the water. It was cold – very cold – but he dove in anyway. He resurfaced, silver and black strands falling into his eyes.

 

‘It’s wonderful!’ He yelled, throwing his arms in the air. ‘Come _on_ !’ He added another _whoop_ for good measure. Kuroo didn’t look convinced, as he rolled up the legs of his pants.

 

‘It’s fucking _freezing_!’ Kuroo stuck his foot in. He hissed and jumped back a few steps, pulling a face that made Bokuto dissolve into a fit of laughter – the sound carrying down the river. Keiji waded into the river slowly, jaw clenched. Perhaps it really was as cold as Kuroo was making it out to be. He made it waist-deep before he closed his eyes and fell back, allowing the water to engulf him. He resurfaced seconds later, sputtering.

 

‘ _It’s so cold!_ ’ He yelled, nervous giggles escaping him as he shuddered in the water. His black curls were plastered down over his eyes, and his nose dripped water.

 

‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ Kuroo said as, hissing, he slowly waded in to join him.

 

Bokuto swam over with a few, lazy strokes. He had no idea why they were so cold – the water was delightful. Kuroo glared at him, as if Bokuto had personally cooled the water beyond his liking. Bokuto splashed him in response, and Kuroo yelped as cold water made contact with his skin, heated from the sun. ‘Oh.’ Kuroo said, eyes glinting and his face breaking into his trademark grin. ‘That’s how you’re gonna do it.’

 

At first it was just the two of them, wrestling and splashing one another like madmen in the river, Keiji swimming slowly around them, basking in the feeling of cool water and sunlight on his face. But then Bokuto accidentally mistook Keiji’s black hair for Kuroo’s wild locks, and Keiji enacted his law of revenge and… it wasn’t long before they were all splashing in every direction. Thinking about it later, Bokuto was sure they made enough noise to have the entire city come running, eager to see what the fuss was about.

 

Bokuto resurfaced closer to Keiji than he’d intended. Last minute, he changed his strategy from assaulting Keiji with a spray of water to simply tackling him into the shallow waters near the bank. Keiji yelped as he and Bokuto toppled backward.

 

The water was slightly deeper here than he’d thought, and his face brushed the surface. Panicked, Bokuto grabbed Keiji’s arms and hauled him up. Keiji coughed out some water, but he was laughing, a beautiful, genuine laugh as Bokuto laid him down onto the grassy bank. It was a melodic, silvery sound, and Bokuto found himself frozen, propped up on his arms, watching as Keiji laughed so hard his eyes crinkled into little crescent moons.

 

Keiji laughed and laughed, and Bokuto stayed there, even as Kuroo left the water and began to complain that he was hungry. Bokuto’s heart was hammering in his chest, as if threatening to burst out. For the first time, he knew the reason, and it all made so much more sense… Keiji. Keiji was the reason why his heart was behaving the way it was. Keiji, with his gentle smiles, contagious laugh, patience and sweet nature. Keiji with his dark, curly hair, dark lashes and pretty features.

 

Keiji’s laughter fizzled out, and he opened his eyes, looking up at Bokuto, who stayed hovering above him, the heels of his hands digging into the earth. The sun caught the green in his eyes. Bokuto swallowed. Keiji smiled at him, a little confused, a little shy, and Bokuto was a goner. He slumped dramatically to one side, and buried his face in the grass – causing the giddy Keiji to laugh – and tried to calm himself. If Keiji heard the pitiful groan that escaped Bokuto’s lips, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he dug into the watermelon that Kuroo had somehow managed to smash open. Bokuto didn’t join them for a while, instead choosing to lie in the grass and try to come to terms with his world-shaking realization:

 

_He was in love with Keiji._

  


✧

 

It was the last day of the very same summer. The King had taken his son, prince Konoha, on a hunt to alleviate the boredom of the hot day. Bokuto had personally saddled the horses of the guards that were to assist the King, but his mentor had insisted on personally taking care of the royals’ horses, and then rode out with them. Bokuto didn’t hear the whole story. The hunting party returned home earlier than planned, with no game, and caused a great commotion in the central courtyard. The beastmaster refused to talk about it, and just gave him a pained look when Bokuto had asked. But the next morning, the prince’s horse, a high-strung bay, was led out of the stables. Bokuto never saw it again.

 

At dinner, Kuroo was given the best seat in the mess hall, right beside the fire. Soldiers and servants alike poured him wine and loaded the best food onto his plate. Bokuto managed to squeeze onto the bench between his friend and a big, scarred guard who glared at him as if he were an annoying fly. Only when he finished eating did Kuroo, satisfied with the tension he’d built, start telling the story. A horrified murmur rippled across the gathered crowd as Kuroo told the tale. The prince had been injured in a freak hunting accident, but it was already clear that he would never walk again. His horse, the bay, was blamed for the accident, but there were whispers of a failed assassination attempt.

 

Three days later, Bokuto heard the sound of the prince and his mother, crying, through the open window to the prince’s chambers. By the time the sun had set that day, the news had reached the darkest alleys of the city: The King had removed Konoha from his position as heir.

 

Kuroo found Bokuto at the back of the stables, using a discarded oats sack as a punching bag. It was unfair to him – that such a beautiful, intelligent animal had to take the blame for something that wasn’t it’s fault, for something that was natural instinct. It wasn’t fair either, that the young prince would lose the one thing he’d been taught gave his life meaning. It just _wasn’t fair_ that because he couldn’t walk, he couldn’t rule, as if his ability to walk equalled his ability to be the just, _young_ King that Fukurodani needed.

 

‘There’s no justice in this world,’ Kuroo had said, and Bokuto had believed him.

 

✧

 

The first day of the Harvest of Bokuto’s fifteenth year brought yet another change. This one didn’t only affect him, or his friends, or the court. It affected the entire nation of Fukurodani, stretching from the far north to the far south, with the Great Blue cutting through it like an azure ribbon.

 

As per tradition, the herald rolled himself out of bed at five in the morning, dressed, and read out a series of decrees, including the tax on the harvest and other boring things, in the main courtyard. Bokuto had been on his feet since much earlier, taking care of the horses belonging to the merchants who personally wanted to hear the decrees – and take part in the huge party, thrown every year to commemorate the Harvest. It’d make more sense for it to be thrown at the end, but Bokuto wasn’t about to argue the topic with men who could buy everything he ever owned and not even feel the difference in the weight of their money pouches.

 

Bokuto had escaped the chaos into Kuroo’s room, and together they gazed out of the small attic window over the gathered crowd, the herald’s voice drifting up to them as he read out decree after decree. The final one had Bokuto nearly tumbling out of the window and down into the courtyard below, had Kuroo not caught him by the shirt in time.

 

The King had acknowledged Keiji as his son and heir, and given him the family name and title. The King had acknowledged his bastard… a whisper stating as much rippled through the crowd, then out the gate and into the town, where it erupted into shouts... " _Long Live Prince Keiji Akaashi_!"

 

They didn’t see him at all that day. Or the day after that. On the third day, they caught a glimpse of his freshly-trimmed hair through an open window in the royal wing of the castle. On the fourth day, Akaashi leaned out of the window and yelled to them that he’ll try and meet soon, for which he was severely reprimanded by his tutor, who pulled him back inside and shut the window.

 

✧

 

Things had changed yet again. Bokuto was _still_ the gamekeeper’s helper, and Kuroo was _still_ the assassin - “spymaster” - in training, but Akaashi was no longer the scholar’s boy. Instead of leaning ink pots all day, he took lessons from the same professor he’d worked for all these years. He could only meet with Bokuto and Kuroo some evenings, and if they met him during the day, they had to bow and call him “prince” or “your highness”. Akaashi was second to the throne after his own father – even the trueborn child, the true heir, Konoha was after him. Then, it was the King’s two brothers, and after that, the royal line became a complicated mess that only Kuroo had the mind to memorize. If the Queen had any other children, they’d succeed the title of the heir – being trueborn children – and Akaashi would be pushed down. But it was known across the land that the Queen had been cursed many years ago, by the King’s jealous lover – Akaashi’s rumored mother.

 

They made it work. Bokuto made sure all his work was done to a standard that the gamekeeper couldn’t complain by the time Akaashi finished his royal duties, so they could wander the castle and it’s grounds in peace – the old gamekeeper claimed he’d never seen him work so hard. Kuroo joined them on occasion; he was almost always busy. The elderly spymaster was starting to trust him with more and more complicated and dangerous duties, and Kuroo rarely even slept or ate, let alone have time off for himself and his friends.

 

Bokuto missed Kuroo, missed his friend’s sarcastic remarks and bountiful store of gossip, but there was something nice about having Akaashi all to himself. He’d long acknowledged that the warm, excited feeling in his chest was love, but being who he was, he decided not to do anything about it. Now that Akaashi was prince, it was even more complicated – social classes and everything else made their _friendship_ difficult, let alone any sort of romantic involvement, even if Akaashi considered him like that. But the social ladder couldn’t stop him from feeling butterflies in his stomach and starbursts in his chest whenever Akaashi smiled or laughed.

 

✧

 

Bokuto stamped his feet, bits of snow falling off the fur lining them. It was _cold_ , and the wind howled around him as he huddled close to Kuroo, staring up at the lit window of Akaashi’s study. At seventeen, Akaashi was given more and more responsibility, and thus even less free time, but damn it all if Kuroo – on one of his rare days off – and Bokuto – as in love as he ever was – weren’t going to freeze their balls off waiting for him.

 

It was a _long_ while before the window to Akaashi’s study finally went dark, and opened. Akaashi clambered out and risked the jump into the suspicious pile of snow, landing with a characteristic crunch. He hauled himself up before Bokuto and Kuroo managed to reach him, and smiled at them, brushing snow off his fancy winter clothes.

 

It was moments like these, when Akaashi was still glowing with the excitement of sneaking out of the castle, when there was snow in his hair and mischief in his eyes, that Bokuto just about managed to hold himself back from kissing every inch of that perfect face.

 

But not all nights when they waited outside the prince’s windows ended with Akaashi actually joined them. More often than not, the scholar would lean out the window and shoo them away, threatening to send the guards on their tail if they continue to “loiter and disturb the young prince’s education”.

 

Some nights, neither the scholar nor Akaashi came to the window. Bokuto stood there, looking up, waiting. It usually ended with Kuroo dragging him away by the arm, calling him a lovesick idiot. A rift was growing between the three friends, Kuroo and Bokuto on one side, Akaashi on the other, even if they didn’t want to admit it to themselves.


	2. Crows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The age old question: are crows an omen of change like the olden races believed, or just a general nuisance? It turns out they are both.

Hundreds upon hundreds of crows had flocked to the castle over the past week, covering the keep in a thick, live blanket of black feathers. They were loud, and annoying, and some had just stolen Bokuto’s food right from his hand. Bokuto glares as the birds tear his bread apart. He’d just wanted to eat in peace in the snow-covered back courtyard, and instead became the victim of robbery in broad daylight.

Some considered the birds an omen. A warning sign from the Gods that evil was about to arrive at the castle gates - crows were often seen circling above battlefields, after all. Others thought it meant a coming conflict with the nation of Karasuno - a small, rising power, whose emblem was the crow. Bokuto’s mentor dismissed the unusual quantity of crows at Fukurodani as simply a flock looking for food, and Bokuto had settled with that explanation - far less worrying than war or disease.

Over the cawing of the birds, he heard the sound of heavy boots on snow, and turned just in time to see Kuroo come out of the stables and pull a face at the cacophony that greeted him in the back courtyard.

‘They got your food?’ Kuroo asked, nodding at the two crows, now nearly finished with the remainder of Bokuto’s bread. Bokuto just nodded, sadly, and Kuroo huffed a laugh, handing him half of his own loaf.

‘What do you think it means?’ Bokuto asked, gesturing to the crows, and taking a bite of his - Kuroo’s - bread.

‘Why, has all the talk of war got you worried?’ Kuroo snorted and shooed a crow away from his own bread. Bokuto just frowned at him: you know we’d be the first to be sent to war. Kuroo sighed, understanding the unspoken implication, and leaned back against the haystack. ‘Crows can mean many different things. I choose to believe they’re just here to steal your food.’

For once, Bokuto couldn’t find it in himself to believe him, and the crows stayed in the castle for the following weeks.

✧

At first, the crows were simply annoying. Then, they were a nuisance. Bokuto could hear their cawing while he mucked out the stables and it was driving him to the point of gripping his pitchfork harder than necessary, the old wood cracking a little under the pressure. The metal scraped against the stone, the sound making his teeth hurt, but he didn’t care, didn’t notice. Just gritted his teeth and continued to clean.

‘Are you alright there, Bokuto?’ Onaga’s head appeared over the top of the wall seperating two stalls, and he looked down at him, eyebrows raised. Bokuto stopped cleaning and leaned on his pitchfork, looking up at his fellow stableboy. Onaga’s eyes shined with concern and an edge of curiosity. Bokuto’s frequent moodswings were amusing to him, as well as most of the other servants, and Bokuto was well aware of that.

‘I’m thinking about the crows,’ Bokuto said, hand on his hip.

‘It’s hard not to,’ Onaga replied. His head disappears from view, but a few moments later he rounded the corner and leaned on the open stall door. ‘They’re a nuisance.’

‘Do you think they mean something?’ Bokuto worried at his lip, then began to clean again. Onaga raised his eyebrows and thought for a moment.

‘My grandmother followed the olden races’ faith,’ Onaga eventually said. ‘They believed crows were a sign of change. That something in your life was going to change and you best be ready for that. But I think it’s just a load of bullshit.’ And, with that, Onaga disappeared back into his stall, leaving Bokuto to ponder.

The olden races were in reality one race - more fae than human - and they are credited with the founding of the Ten Kingdoms. They were deeply connected to their magic, and among them, Bokuto’s gift of the Skill was a great honour. But as humans started to grow stronger with their technological advancements, the fae were pushed back, their territory taken from them. Following the Purge two hundred years ago, they were considered mostly wiped out, only small reminders of their existence surviving in the form of buildings, and the rare gift of magic.

Humans took the Ten Kingdoms; Shiratorizawa, Aoba Johsai, Seijou, Datekou, Nohebi, Johzenji, Fukurodani, Nekoma, Shinzen and Karasuno; once coexisting peacefully, and turned them into a huge game - where the price to win is death and blood. And so, the Ten Fae Kingdoms became the Six Human Kingdoms, when Aoba Johsai swallowed the harsh, mountain kingdom of Seijou, Shinzen joined with Nekoma, which was later joined with Fukurodani by means of royal marriage. And even then, the Six Kingdoms didn’t live together in peace. The border between Fukurodani’s Nekoma Province and Nohebi was constantly active, raids happening on both sides. Seijou - following the brutal death of their royal family not five years prior - was searching for their lost prince and rebelling against their oppressors, while the age-old Shiratorizawa and Aoba Johsai conflict raged on.

It was clear to Bokuto that the olden races knew more about life than humans did - just looking at the example of the Kingdoms. Could they have been right about the crows? Bokuto didn’t know if he was ready for change.

✧

Change didn’t care whether or not Bokuto was ready for it, and came with the turn of spring.

Bokuto and Kuroo were warming themselves by the huge fire, having recently come inside from the chilly morning. A division of soldiers were taking their morning meal in the mess hall, and bits of conversation drifted over to them. Kuroo, like always, listened in, absorbing every bit of information that may be of any use to him or his mentor - at this point, it was force of habit to listen into people’s conversations.

The doors were flung open, and a red-headed serving boy tumbled in, breathing heavily, and successfully captured the attention of everyone gathered. He was immediately swept up by the soldiers and planted down on the bench between them, given wine and food, and told to tell his story. Bokuto smirked as Hinata lapped up the attention, wolfed down the food. His face fell immediately when Hinata began his story.

‘The King’s summoned the bastard prince to the throne hall,’ Hinata managed, through a mouthful of meat. ‘They’re saying the Queen’s finally convinced him.’ Bokuto opened his mouth to speak - to object to Akaashi being called the bastard prince - but Kuroo’s hand was firm on his shoulder, and he shut his mouth.

‘Convinced him to what?’ Kuroo questioned, looking directly at Hinata. Bokuto didn’t even have to look at him to know he was using his “investigating” look, which was downright terrifying at best. Hinata’s knees shook a little under it’s force, and he ducked closer to one of the guards, as if a big, scary guard could stop him from Kuroo’s wrath, if provoked.

‘To send him away.’ Conversation erupted immediately after Hinata’s answer. Bokuto felt his blood begin to boil, but forced himself to sit and listen as the soldiers expressed their opinions, all following the same theme.

‘D’you think the King will disown him?’ One of the guards asked, turning to his companions, just within Bokuto’s earshot. ‘He should have never recognized him anyway.’ His friend replied, taking a swig of his drink. Another chimed in: ‘A bastard can’t lead a kingdom, we don’t need a mutt telling us what to do.’

The last comment was the last straw for Bokuto to snap. He stood up violently, his stool falling over and stormed from the room. ‘That one would like to get a leg over the prince, wouldn’t he?’ One of the soldiers jeered, his eyes boring into Bokuto’s back as he left. He heard Ukai roar for silence before the doors shut behind him.

✧

Three days later, Bokuto found himself walking through the polished corridors of the main castle, led by a shaking Hinata toward the royal quarters. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the hum of day to day business going on in the servant’s quarters and kitchens, but the royal wing of the castle was eerily quiet. Only Bokuto’s footsteps, heavy shoes making a racket on the polished wooden floor, and Hinata’s much softer ones - he was practically tiptoeing along in his nerves.

After what felt like hours, but in reality, looking at the sun, was less than an hour of walking, Bokuto began to recognize the corridors through which he was walking. He’d snuck through here, once, in an attempt to see Akaashi, but was caught and promptly thrown back into his stables. He hadn’t tried since, not when his job at the keep and the favour of the King was on the line.

Hinata stopped at an engraved, dark wood door. Bokuto’s hand instinctively came up to push it open, but Hinata stopped him with a look. Bokuto obeyed and stepped back. Hinata opened his mouth to say something, but then, there was the sound of another pair of footsteps approaching. Before they even turned, Bokuto already had a hunch as to whom it may be.

And he was right: walking down the sunlit corridor, looking like the main character of some penny dreadful with his dark cloak and gleaming weapon, was Kuroo, preceded by a few steps by a dark haired serving boy Bokuto vaguely recognized as Hinata’s friend, Kageyama.

‘Fancy seeing you here, eh?’ Kuroo clapped Bokuto on the back as he came to a halt at the door. Hinata bounced over to Kageyama, and the two of them, with a short, formal bow in Bokuto and Kuroo’s direction, hurried down the corridor, as if restraining themselves from breaking into a run. ‘Five gold say they’re going right to the mess hall.’ Kuroo nudged Bokuto, eyes twinkling.

‘You don’t even have five gold.’ Bokuto frowned at him, knowing full well that Kuroo’s pockets were as empty as his own - the pay of an apprentice was less than pleasing, and Kuroo had spent his own recently, gambling on a jewelled ring at the inn. He’d lost, of course.

‘I know,’ Kuroo sighed. ‘I was hoping you did, so I could be five gold richer.’

Bokuto’s retort was cut off by the sound of a door creaking open. It might’ve been made of the finest wood Bokuto had ever gotten the chance to touch - in that split moment before Hinata stopped him - but apparently the servants didn’t know how to oil hinges properly. The same could not be said about the stables - to Bokuto’s great pride.

‘The prince will see you now,’ The exiting scholar frowned at them as he left. Bokuto guessed they made quite a pair - one wide and dressed in mismatched riding gear, silver and black hair sticking up at odd angles. At one point, it had been neatly swept back, but one too many friendly horses had reduced Bokuto’s hair to a mess. Beside him, Kuroo was dressed from head to toe in black, his cloak hanging down to his feet - Bokuto had often questioned how practical a long cloak was for an assassin, but Kuroo insisted it was necessary, even if for appearance’s sake.

Akaashi’s study was a sunlit, golden haze, light streaming in through the tall windows. Akaashi sat behind a fine desk, a chair tipped over across from him. Bokuto, who’d walked into the room a step behind Kuroo, righted it with his foot - only after a moment did it occur to him that it mightn’t have been the correct course of action - and sat on it. Kuroo sat himself comfortably on the velvet sofa, going as far as to perch his legs on a stack of books.

‘So, why’d you call us? You haven’t done it once in the… however many years it’s been.’ Kuroo draped his arms on the back of the sofa, looking like he belonged more in a bar or brothel, not the prince’s study. Bokuto supposed that was Kuroo’s gift: being at ease, or pretending to be at ease in any situation.

The breeze wafting in through the open window sent pages fluttering all around the room. Even the map, laid out on Akaashi’s desk and weighed down with makeshift paperweights - books, a dagger in a decorative scabbard and a cup of still-steaming tea - threatened to take off. Bokuto’s eyes followed the dark line running down the centre of it, from Fukurodani Keep, marked with a golden coin to an area outlined in red ink.

‘Do you… Do you remember that promise that we made as children?’ Akaashi’s voice pulled Bokuto’s eyes away from the map and up to his face. Akaashi was frowning, his brow creasing with worry. Immediately, worry began to brew in Bokuto’s chest. It’s rare that Akaashi openly expresses his worry like this - particularly so ever since he became Prince.

‘We made many promises as children,’ Kuroo said, still reclining on the sofa. Over his shoulder, Bokuto shot him a glare: not the time - even he can tell that much. Akaashi was unsettled, and it was in everyone’s best interest to get to the matter at hand, not teasing and dragging the cat around by the tail. ‘All of which I intend to keep, by the way.’ Kuroo adds.

‘We promised to always stay together,’ Akaashi pointedly ignored Kuroo’s teasing - and his boots, still perched on a stack of expensive books. ‘We promised to travel the world one day, to get away from here.’

‘Why are you bringing this up now, Akaashi?’ Bokuto stood up, and walked around the desk to stand at Akaashi’s side, gently resting a hand on his shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. He could feel how stiff Akaashi’s shoulders were beneath his silk shirt, tensed with stress. Something was definitely not right.

‘Do you still intend to keep it?’ Akaashi chose his words carefully, weighing and comparing each and every one.

‘Of course,’ Bokuto did not skip a beat, golden eyes boring into Akaashi’s cheek when he would not look at him. Instead, his prince studied every detail on the map in front of him. There was a beat of silence, and Bokuto looked up to glare at Kuroo, whose eyes are glazed over as he stared up at the painted ceiling.

‘Like I just said,’ Kuroo snapped back into reality, having felt the weight of Bokuto’s expectant gaze on him. ‘I intend to keep everything I promised to you two.’

If circumstances had been different, Bokuto would have brought up the time Kuroo promised him ten gold coins if he got the name of the pretty waiter at the tavern for him. But it was not right, not now, when Akaashi was wringing his hands in nerves.

‘I’m being sent away.’ Akaashi let out in one breath, and finally looked Bokuto in the eyes. ‘I want you to come with me.’

‘I’m coming.’ There was no question about it in Bokuto’s mind. He was going to go with Akaashi wherever he went, as long as he wanted him. Bokuto’s promises and friendships ran deep, and he was not about to let Akaashi think otherwise by asking more questions. Akaashi smiled at him, and squeezed his arm in a silent thank you. It made Bokuto feel warm all over. Kuroo, on the other hand, was more cautious than Bokuto. He lingered, and Akaashi, sensing this, supplied an explanation.

‘My father wants to prove to himself-’ Akaashi frowned. ‘Or to the Queen, or his Council, that I am fit to one day be King. He wants me to rule as High Lord of one of the family territories…’ Akaashi looked down at the map, and Bokuto’s eyes followed his gaze. The territory in question was the region outlined in red, in the middle of the border between true Fukurodani and the Nekoma province - one of the former Ten Kingdoms, annexed by Fukurodani many years before Bokuto’s birth. ‘He titled me High Lord of Shinzen, and nothing more.’

‘How would that work, with you being Crown Prince?’ Bokuto asked, looking up to Akaashi’s face once more.

‘I’m to live as High Lord of Shinzen unless…’ Akaashi trailed off, fingers drumming on the desk.

‘Unless what?’

Keiji’s drumming stopped. ‘Unless I manage to outlive my mother and father,’ Akaashi frowned at the desk. ‘He does not believe I will see thirty.’

The room was silent. Somewhere in the distance, Bokuto could hear the sound of voices as the servants hung out the washing. Then, the sound of Kuroo gathering himself off the couch, and muted footsteps on the soft carpet as he approached the map. Bokuto’s eyes followed his; sizing up the distance between the Keep and Shinzen. As they skimmed over the forest, the azure ribbon of the Great Blue, and the plains surrounding Shinzen Keep - marked as Vos Nouca on the map. And then, Bokuto saw the grimace on Kuroo’s face. He kicked him in the ankle.

‘I don’t know how Nekomata will react- I still haven’t finished the Rite or completed my training and he won’t find an apprentice that fast-’ Kuroo started to ramble, not completing sentences before slipping to the next as his mind listed off a thousand reasons against going. Akaashi stayed silent, looking down at the map. Waiting.

‘You do realize there’s a queue of boys outside Nekomata’s door every morning asking if he’s taking on another apprentice yet?’ Bokuto’s other hand found its way to Kuroo’s shoulder. ‘Stop stressing. He’ll manage.’ Kuroo turned to Bokuto, and he saw the worry in his eyes. Of course... Kuroo owed Nekomata his life, his education, his entire sense of self. And here were they - not just Akaashi anymore, Bokuto had joined him - asking him to leave it all behind…

‘I’ll go,’ Kuroo took a deep breath. ‘I’ll go.’

Bokuto let out a whoop and jumped up to embrace Kuroo. Kuroo hugged him back, laughing nervously as Bokuto clapped him on the back. As they danced around the study, Bokuto swore he saw Akaashi grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters is a tad bit long for the action to get rolling, but it didn’t feel right without them setting the scene. The reference to the Ten Kingdoms/Six Human Kingdoms is more important for the other fics in the series, not neccessarily this one.


	3. The Road Ahead

As Bokuto swung into the saddle, he couldn’t help but notice the King’s absence, and the meagre supplies they’d been given for the road. The High Lord of Shinzen was clearly expected to fend for himself. There were seven horses; five to ride on – the King had sent only one of his senior soldiers, Ukai, to Shinzen with the bastard prince, and Ukai had taken his own man, a captain in training, Daichi - and two pack horses, led by Bokuto and Ukai. When Konoha had travelled to the next village over, he’d been sent with forty soldiers, armed to the teeth. It was clear who the favourite was.

The farewell party was also small. Nekomata and Bokuto’s own mentor, the Gamekeeper were there. The Gamekeeper wiped a tear from his eye; he’d already nearly crushed Bokuto’s ribs in a goodbye hug – which he could still feel – while Nekomata whispered some last minute advice to Kuroo, who was already sat on his black mare.

And finally, they were off; the iron gate of Fukurodani Keep shut after them with a resounding screech and bang. The horses hooves clattered on the cobbled city streets, and some citizens looked out from their windows and doors, but turned away quickly. Bokuto guessed it did not look like a royal caravan in the slightest; Bokuto, Kuroo, Ukai and Daichi dressed in their usual clothes, and Akaashi too, had swapped his fancy, gold-embroidered clothes for riding gear. It was fine, of course, and worth more than Bokuto could imagine, but didn’t have quite the same effect on the general public.

Ukai rode in front, blond hair catching the sun. He seemed annoyed with his assignment, but was yet to complain. He took a cigar from his saddlebags, lit it, and puffed out little blue clouds of smoke, guiding his horse one-handed. The pack horse was tied to his saddle, and trotted obediently after him. Daichi rode silently, his posture like a soldier’s, back straight and looking ahead. If Bokuto had not seen him kiss his mother’s hand goodbye an hour before, tears in his eyes, he might’ve thought him emotionless. Next came Akaashi, Kuroo and Bokuto, riding beside one another, taking up the entire width of the forest road. Bokuto’s pack horse brought up the rear.

To Bokuto, it didn’t feel as if they were leaving forever. He sat tall on his trusty bay and looked ahead, past Ukai’s curious choice of hairstyle, at the road ahead. Unlike Akaashi, he was not looking at Shinzen as a test of his abilities. It was a new chapter in his life, and he didn’t feel he was going to be held accountable for how well he performed in it. Unlike Daichi or Ukai, Bokuto had no family in Fukurodani Keep. He wasn’t even a son of the city; he hailed from a small farming settlement south of the keep. Even there, he had no siblings or family; his mother had died in childbirth, with him as her only child. His father, having discovered Bokuto’s Skill and love for animals, had brought him to the royal court to be trained under the best gamekeeper in the country. He’d never made it back: he was mistaken for a wanted man and murdered by wannabe bounty hunters a day’s travel from Fukurodani Keep.

Bokuto turned back in his saddle, looking back at the tall, gray walls of the keep. Somehow, it looked less intimidating than that day when, as a five year old, clutching his father’s hand, he’d stood at the front gates, snow falling all around them. Bokuto’s eyes pulled away from the castle to Kuroo, who was silent in the saddle beside him. It occurred to him now that Kuroo had not travelled out of the city in his life without the intention of returning. Bokuto knew Kuroo could ride, he’d taught him himself. But right now, his friend looked out of place.  
Bokuto’s attention was torn away from his friend when a murder of crows took flight from within the city. A great cacophony of sound arose, as the birds flew over the small travelling party and into the forest, their calls gradually fading into silence.

‘Death,’ Akaashi said, voice barely a whisper as he stared after the birds. Bokuto shot him a confused look, to which Akaashi responded: ‘The olden races believed crows were omens of change… but if it was a group in flight, it was an omen of death. I think that’s where the name “murder” of crows comes from, actually.’

‘I hate crows,’ Kuroo spat on the ground, swaying with every step his horse took.

‘I quite like them, personally,’ said Daichi without looking back. Kuroo pulled a face at him, making Bokuto laugh.

Bokuto turned to his friend. ‘I thought you didn’t believe in omens.’

‘I didn’t,’ Kuroo shuddered, as if shaking off the same feeling Bokuto had gotten - the feeling of dread, creeping up their spines like ivy and wrapping around their hearts. ‘Until that business with that “change” bullshit.’

The dark aura that had fallen on the party was dispelled by Daichi’s whistle. The captain sat a little straighter and nudged his horse onward. ‘Let’s hope it’s none of our deaths,’ he called over his shoulder. Kuroo let out a chuckle and urged his horse onward, Bokuto and Akaashi following in his example. And like that, Fukurodani Keep faded into the distance, blocked by the tangle of trees that made up Fukurodani’s pride and most dangerous possession: the great forest.

✧

For the first time in many years, Bokuto got to experience the forest at night. The campfire crackled in the centre of their small camp. Ukai was finishing up the last of his dinner on a log by it, while Daichi was already soundly asleep. Somewhere in the distance, the forest was alive with game that wasn’t brave enough to risk nearing the camp: which was most likely a mix of strange and alluring scents to them. When Bokuto reached out with his Skill, he found them all to be thinking the same thing: danger, danger, danger. For a moment, he debated trying to bring across a sense of peace to them, but eventually settled that it was for the best that they stayed wary of humans. One of their own was now just a pile of bones by Ukai’s feet, after all.

Bokuto wrapped the furs and his cloak closer around himself. The forest was cold, even though it was late spring, and the nights were to get even colder as they travelled north. Bokuto consoled himself with what Kuroo had told him before they left - Shinzen was mainly farming territory; it couldn’t be that cold. But yet Bokuto found himself wondering if Vos Nouca, Shinzen’s main keep, would turn out to be like the capital of the former mountain kingdom, Seijoh: eternally frozen in ice and snow. He hoped it wouldn’t.

Unwillingly, as he lay on his back, looking at the stars twinkling above him, his mind travelled to the tales Ukai had told them over dinner. Of monsters with only one eye and mouths that stretched all around their heads. Of spirits that manifested as pretty, young women and begged knights for assistance, only for them to be found the next morning with their throats slit. Of strange creatures that took the shape of your greatest desire to lure you into their dens, and devour you. Bokuto had dismissed them all as fairy tales, but Kuroo had pulled a smug face and said that they’ve all been proven. Countless eyewitness accounts of the monsters, as well as the written accounts of one or two men who had survived the wraith’s attacks took up a considerable amount of space on Nekomata’s shelves, he’d said. Bokuto hadn’t been sure if Kuroo was teasing him or actually, genuinely telling the truth, but he hadn’t gotten the chance to ask: Kuroo had abandoned the topic of forest monsters in favour of his new favourite past-time: annoying the good-natured Daichi.

‘I miss this,’ Akaashi’s voice pulled Bokuto away from his thoughts. Somehow, when Bokuto had been too engrossed in his thoughts, Akaashi had lain down beside him on the furs, so close their shoulders were almost touching.

‘Freezing your ass off in the middle of a pretty damn terrifying forest?’ Bokuto ventured, sending a hopeful grin Akaashi’s way. The moonlight, assisted by the light of the slowly dying fire and the shadows accentuated every angle of Akaashi’s face. His elegant nose, his jawline… Bokuto sat up and tilted his head, looking at him. The elegance of royal blood - so easily overlooked, was written black on white on Akaashi’s face.

‘Looking at the stars with you,’ A smile tugged at Akaashi’s lips but he shook his head, looking away from Bokuto. ‘Weaving flowers into each other’s hair, that sort of thing.’ Akaashi waved his hand around, as if there was a gallery of their moments on display for Bokuto to look at and remember. There was no such thing - only their memories. Bokuto pulled a face and lay back down, while Akaashi shuffled around on the furs, eventually settling on laying with his back pressed flush against Bokuto’s side. ‘Maybe now that I’m not a prince anymore, we can be us again.’

Bokuto’s brows furrowed, but as he opened his mouth to speak, he heard the soft sigh. Akaashi had fallen asleep, lightning-quick, exhausted after a long day of travel. So Bokuto shut his mouth, and resolved to ask him about it in the morning. Soon after, Sleep reached up and claimed him, drawing him into a world of great adventure, where he was a wolf, free to run and hunt as he pleased. She didn’t let him leave her until Ukai woke him with a bucket of cold water to his face.

✧

The next day was hot. So unbearably hot that even proper Daichi shed his armor and rode in just a thin linen shirt and pants. They’d entered an area where the forest had grown over a deep, dried-out river valley. All was silent, save for the sound of their horses’ hooves on the dirt road, and the jingle of Kuroo’s daggers hitting off of one another.

Bokuto cast a look at his friend and felt a little dizzy. Kuroo hadn’t shed his black cloak or his black shirt or any of his ensemble, and it made Bokuto feel ill to think about how hot it must be under all those layers. Kuroo did not look bothered in the slightest, however, his weaponry still strapped to him as if he were riding out for war.

A lone caw broke the silence, and a crow soared far above them, heading north. Bokuto turned to Akaashi to engage him in friendly banter and lighten the boredom of the journey, but there was an angry shout from somewhere at the head of their little caravan. There was the thundering of hooves as a group of mounted men - dressed in rags, furs and masks - charged at them from both sides, and arrows began to rain from the sides of the narrow valley.

‘ _Bandits_!’

It was too late for the warning. They’d walked right into the arms of a waiting ambush, not prepared in the slightest: with the exception of Kuroo, they were all wearing thin shirts, armor bundled up in cloaks and strapped to their horses. They didn’t stand a chance against their attackers: Bokuto felt his blood run cold.

‘Get yourself together or we’re all lost!’

Ukai thundered past Bokuto, crossbow aiming for the centre of another bandit’s chest. He struck true, but his crossbow was soon two splinters on the forest floor under the pressure of a greatsword, and he unsheathed his sword. Daichi fought at his side, and from behind Bokuto, arrows whizzed through the air, striking bandits left and right - in the arm, in the leg, but never quite the heart - Kuroo was doing his damndest with the slim long-range combat training he had. Bokuto reached for his own sword, and managed to - clumsily - swing it just in time to avoid a knife being lodged in his shoulder - effectively rendering him defenseless.

Subconsciously, his friends and their escort had formed a wall around Bokuto in his moment of weakness: Ukai and Daichi holding the north, Akaashi, supported by Kuroo’s arrows, fighting off bandits from the south. The arrows from the hilltops had stopped: and if Bokuto didn’t know that meant support was coming for the bandits fighting down below, he’d have been happy about it.

Not wanting to play the damsel in distress, defended by his friends, Bokuto maneuvered around Kuroo and took up a spot beside Akaashi, covering his left side. Kuroo’s arrows continued to whizz past his ear and shoulder, but Bokuto knew that his friend couldn’t have more than ten left. Indeed, Kuroo began to shoot at greater intervals, loosing and arrow only when he was sure it’d hit his target. The bandits must’ve realized he was running out of arrows, because the strength of their blows when Bokuto parried them, had doubled in intensity.

‘Bokuto!’ Bokuto couldn’t risk looking over his shoulder at the sound of his name, his focus taken up completely by a man twice his size, his blade hitting left and right, trying to break Bokuto’s focus, trying to make him fail at a parry. ‘Bokuto!’ Ukai roared again. ‘Take him and go!’ Bokuto turned at that, arms locking his opponent’s sword in place, eyes meeting with Kuroo’s, arrow at the ready. _Could he really leave his friends?_

‘We’ll cover you. Ride for Shinzen. Don’t wait for us.’ The look in Kuroo’s eyes left no room for argument, and Bokuto turned back.

The strength built up over years of hard work paid off, and Bokuto managed to shove his attacker away just in time for Kuroo to lodge an arrow in his chest. Nudging his horse forward - thankfully, the horse had seen many battles and was beyond caring, as was the packhorse - Bokuto grabbed hold of Akaashi’s reins and tugged Verity - Akaashi’s feisty pureblood - into a gallop, pushing through the bandits hounding them, miraculously avoiding injury, and thundered down the valley. An arrow grazed his cheek and he felt a sharp sting of pain, but kept his eyes on the road ahead. Akaashi snatched up his crossbow - hanging unused at his side until now - and loosened a bolt behind them, unsaddling one of the bandits that had naturally broken off to pursue them.

Bokuto looped Akaashi’s reins loosely around the horn of his saddle - trusting Verity to continue galloping forward with panic - and turned around. He watched as another of Akaashi’s bolts struck true, and a bandit fell to the ground, his body disappearing in the tall grass of the roadside. He also watched as, in an effort to secure their escape, Kuroo reined his horse in front of a bandit pursuing them, blocking the entirety of the road with his body. Bokuto saw it all in slow motion - the bandit’s moment of hesitation, the arc of his arm, Kuroo parrying the blade with his armor, and then the blast from somewhere behind the two of them, knocking Kuroo to the ground, spooking his horse.

‘Tetsu!’

✧

  
Bokuto reached out with his Skill time after time, not satisfied when all he sensed was Akaashi, rabbits, deer and the odd fox. He was tense, his heart still beating like crazy from the fight. They had continued galloping until they came across a creek, long after nightfall, and the horses couldn’t run any further. They’d tumbled from the saddles, led the horses into a tiny, secluded clearing, haphazardly unsaddled, and piled furs on the ground as a makeshift bed. They hadn’t even lit a fire - a decision Bokuto now regretted - and burrowed down among the furs, seeking one another’s embrace for comfort. Bokuto had peppered little kisses on Akaashi’s forehead and cheeks, brushed back his hair until his prince fell into a nervous slumber. Akaashi had woken what felt like an hour ago, and limped into the forest to relieve himself, and Bokuto had not stopped reaching out with his skill for a potential ambush. Something rustled in the bushes beside them, and Bokuto’s hand tightened on the dagger.

‘It’s me,’ Akaashi said hoarsely, feeling his way to the pile of furs. He dusted off his bare feet and clambered back in, his body cold next to Bokuto’s. He fit perfectly into Bokuto’s side.

‘I know. I just thought-’ Bokuto slipped the dagger under the furs making up his makeshift pillow. He trailed off, not sure how to explain what he’d been hoping to achieve. They were defenseless, in the case of an ambush, and they wouldn’t get far… Just thinking about it made his stomach churn.

Akaashi tugged the furs up, over their shoulders. In the moonlight, Bokuto saw him smile weakly, then felt his hand brush a strand of hair from Bokuto’s face. ‘Today is not our day,’ Akaashi said, voice barely above a whisper. ‘I refuse to let you die today.’ And with that, Akaashi settled back down, as if he hadn’t done anything but discuss the weather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine’s Day everyone! Hope your life is full od love, be it romantic, platonic, familial or love for your own damn self, ’cos everyone needs that in their life.
> 
> Speaking of Valentine’s day, Chapter 4 was meant to be a Valentine’s Special (is...) but because of the hiccup where I couldn’t edit when I wanted to, we’re behind. Oops. If everything is right I’ll get it finalized today and there’ll be two chapters today.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Good morning,’ said Bokuto, feeling a little dizzy at the sight. Akaashi’s smile could win wars, have his enemies kneeling at the very sight of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I said this was self indulgent, I meant it...
> 
> /sips tea/ Enjoy..?

When Bokuto opened his eyes, the sun was nearly midway through it’s journey through the sky. Normally, he would wake as the first rays warmed the earth, but his sleep had been unusually deep. That very thought sent a bolt of panic through his body: they’d been vulnerable, hadn’t even thought to set up watch - anyone could have crept up on them during the night and ended their journey prematurely.

But as Bokuto looked around, his panic faded and his heartbeat gradually slowed: nothing was amiss in the campsite. The saddles were still thrown onto the grass, their horses lazily tied to a nearby tree and left to graze. He shivered. They had not built a campfire the night before, simply clambered into the furs, and the new day had greeted them coldly.

Akaashi slept beside Bokuto, cheeks flushed with sleep as he nestled further into Bokuto’s side, seeking warmth, his cheek mushed into Bokuto’s shoulder in a very endearing fashion. His curly hair was tousled: Bokuto had felt him toss and turn all night, restless with whatever his dreams were plagued with. He looked completely at peace, so different from the young man of the night before: the young man filled with the primal rage of battle and the thrill of a daring escape. He stirred, blinking slowly against the sunlight dancing on his face. His face broke into a lazy, comfortable smile, like that of a man that has woken after a good night’s sleep to find his lover still next to him, with nowhere to be and nothing to do.

‘Good morning,’ said Bokuto, feeling a little dizzy at the sight. Akaashi’s smile could win wars, have his enemies kneeling at the very sight of it.

Bokuto’s heart sped up again as Akaashi mumbled a sleepy response, and hauled himself up to look down at him. All along his torso - where Akaashi’s comfortable weight bore down on him - and his right leg, tangled with Akaashi’s left, Bokuto felt like he was on fire, every little bit of contact with Akaashi’s body driving him insane.

Akaashi blinked down at him for a moment, his eyes travelling around Bokuto’s face, from his eyes, to his messy hair - if Bokuto hadn’t had his arms looped loosely around Akaashi’s waist, he might’ve self-consciously fixed it - he suspected it looked like a crow’s nest, tousled from the breakneck gallop of the previous day. Akashi did not remark on Bokuto’s hair, didn’t try to tame it with his own hands. He just smiled at him softly, and leaned in.

It took Bokuto a moment to process what was happening, to actually feel Akaashi’s lips on his own. The kiss was slow, gentle, lazy even, testing the boundaries, as if Akaashi was expecting to be pushed away with every second that passed, but Bokuto got lost in it all the same. Got lost in the warmth that reached his toes, in the feeling of Akaashi’s cold hand, gently cupping the side of his face, his fingers beginning to weave in his hair. The feeling of Akaashi’s back, rising and falling under his hands as they kissed in the early afternoon sun.

A sharp realization broke through the haze, but it was Akaashi who pulled away first, propping himself up on his arms, looking down at Bokuto, every emotion written plainly on his pretty face, and for a moment Bokuto worried the kiss had been a mistake, a creation of the morning haze, of the adrenaline barely settled in their veins. His voice had been stolen by Akaashi’s lips, so he just lay there, wide-eyed and lips ajar, looking up at the angel hovering just above him.

‘Remember when… when I said that one day, I’ll do what I want?’ Akaashi’s voice was steady, but Bokuto could feel the tension in every word, in every moment between Akaashi and his answer. And yet, his voice still failed him. ‘Yesterday… I realized that I am sick of waiting for that day to come. I’ve decided that day is now, here. I’m not a prince, I’m not a lord… yet. And I intend to make the most of it.’

Determination shone in Akaashi’s eyes, and Bokuto slowly began to realize the deeper meaning. From the moment he was acknowledged as the King’s son, his life had not been his, but his father’s and the kingdom’s. His every breath was carefully planned out by his father, and everything in his life, from the way he dressed to who he loved - or appeared to love, for the kingdom’s sake - would not be conducted by his heart, but by what was the most beneficial for Fukurodani. Having temporarily renounced his title of prince, and not yet taken up that of the high lord, Akaashi was in whatever lay between. And that something meant unrestrained freedom for him.

‘How’d… how’d you know?’ Bokuto’s voice found it’s way back to him as he pushed himself up, onto his elbows, then to a sitting position, so Akaashi was straddling him, arms around his neck. Akaashi’s eyes didn’t waver from his for a moment.

‘I’m not blind, you know,’ Akaashi’s laugh brought him the same bliss as hot coffee on a cold day. ‘Besides, Hinata’s bad at keeping secrets.’ Bokuto had half a mind to either yell at or thank the fiery-haired serving boy on the nearest occasion, before Akaashi’s face grew serious, and that dark, swirling look returned to his eyes. ‘I want you, Bokuto,’ he said, not flinching at the uncharacteristic boldness. ‘I want you, for as long as we have.’

And just like that, with Akaashi’s simple proclamation, Bokuto was a lost cause. He could care less for the grim fact that the words “as long as I have” carried as he leaned forward, catching Akaashi’s lips in his own. Bokuto had always been better at physically showing his feelings, particularly affection - hugging was his forte - and words had failed him.

Akaashi kissed back differently this time, with more fire than before, and Bokuto was almost overwhelmed. Akaashi was sensitive, much more sensitive than Bokuto would’ve imagined - a tremor ran through his body from head to toe when Bokuto moved away from his lips, along his jawline, leaving little kisses down his neck and finally, kissed the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Akaashi looked away, suddenly shy, as if the things Bokuto could do to him with a mere kiss embarrassed him. Bokuto felt his chest swell with pride at the thought.

‘Can I?’ Bokuto gently tugged at the white linen of Akaashi’s shirt. Akaashi’s head bobbed lazily in response - he still did not look at him, his cheeks and ears and some of his neck flushed a most attractive shade of pink - and Bokuto undid the buttons of his shirt, one by one. His fingers were trembling, both of nervousness and excitement. Bokuto wasn’t green to this kind of thing, but something about doing it with Akaashi made him feel as new as his first time.

Akaashi’s hands slowly lifted from Bokuto’s shoulders and slowly, shyly even, slid into Bokuto’s hair, as if marvelling at the feeling of it. Bokuto grinned and tilted his head back, allowing Akaashi to card his fingers through his hair as he undid the last of the buttons.

Akaashi inhaled sharply as the linen fell off his shoulders and onto the furs. The early afternoon was cold, and when Bokuto gently ran his hands down Akaashi’s sides, his skin was hot to touch. He was awestruck. Looking at Akaashi, so vulnerable and bare in the sunlight, was like looking at a painting or a sculpture, crafted by the gods themselves. It took his breath away.

He kissed Akaashi’s shoulder, the soft skin there, his collarbone, the tiny freckle he found there. A giggle escaped Akaashi’s lips, surprised and gleeful. Bokuto found himself smirking in satisfaction as he trailed lower and lower, exploring Akaashi’s body. He tried to memorize every hill and valley, every curve and sharpe line he kissed, and counted every freckle. Akaashi was trembling by the time Bokuto kissed the last one - a little freckle just beside Akaashi’s hip bone. Then he looked up, opening his mouth to speak, but was cut off with a ferocious kiss.

Akaashi was even more sensitive now, reacting with a shiver to the gentlest of touches. Bokuto had worshipped his body, leaving him trembling and needy. Bokuto gently, as if holding a precious jewel, lay him down on the furs, not breaking the kiss once. Akaashi’s hands were near frantic as he peeled off Bokuto’s shirt, breaking the kiss just to tug it over Bokuto’s head and chug it into the clearing somewhere.

Akaashi bit his lip, eyes scanning up and down Bokuto’s torso, and Bokuto felt him twitch against his thigh. Pride swelled in his chest, again. Akaashi’s hands were faster than Bokuto’s kisses had been - where Bokuto was slow, worshipping, Akaashi was curious, bold, and overcome with desire. Bokuto hissed as Akaashi’s cold fingers found their way to his nipples, playing with them, sending heat down south like a lightning bolt. They kissed again, Akaashi pulling Bokuto in deeper with a hand on the back of his neck.

‘Akaashi… d’you…’ Bokuto, having began to undo the button on the front of Akaashi’s pants, satisfyingly tight, had stumbled upon a problem that would’ve been easily alleviated if they were at home in the Keep. But they were travelling.

Akaashi tore his gaze away from Bokuto’s muscles with considerable effort, and looked up at him, hands still on him. Then, as he understood what Bokuto was silently asking, he burst out laughing. Bokuto didn’t ask how Akaashi came to go travelling with a vial of oil in his saddlebags, but he did, and soon the cold vial was being pressed into his hand, and Akaashi was back, his back pressed flush against him as they kneeled on the furs.

‘How do you want to-’ Bokuto flushed. With someone else, he might’ve been bolder, but this was Akaashi, the until-now unattainable angel.

‘I just want you,’ Akaashi said, leaning his head back and kissing the corner of his lips. ‘I want you to make love to me, however you like.’ The words were a whisper in Bokuto’s ear, and damn him if Akaashi didn’t know what an effect they had on him. Pants were not an issue anymore.

Bokuto kissed Akaashi, as he rubbed small circles into Akaashi’s now exposed thighs and hips. Akaashi was alternating between kissing him back and gasping quietly as Bokuto brushed the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. When Bokuto wrapped his hand around Akaashi’s base, he found him stiff, and took it as a wonderful sign that his ministrations were working their magic on his lover. Bokuto moved slowly, teasingly, kissing Akaashi sweetly all the while. There would be time for … energy … later, but now, now he wanted to experience Akaashi slowly, little by little.

‘Bokuto,’ Akaashi gasped, breath coming in ragged gasps. ‘Stop teasing me.’ Akaashi took a moment to regain some of his breath as Bokuto stayed where he was, one hand stroking him, the other lightly massaging the muscles of Akaashi’s quivering stomach. ‘Just…’ Akaashi flushed, but Bokuto understood the unspoken plea: _get on with it_.

‘Of course.’

Bokuto poured a generous amount of the oil from the vial onto his fingers and Akaashi shut his eyes, blushing down to his shoulders as he moved to his hands and knees and spread his legs to allow Bokuto access. Bokuto kissed a pale shoulder as he started with his index finger, circling it around where Akaashi was most sensitive. Akaashi let out a little whine and arched his back. So wonderfully sensitive…

Akaashi was a gasping, groaning mess by the time Bokuto managed three fingers inside of him. His previous attempts to keep a grip on himself had failed, and he was coming apart under Bokuto’s touch: one hand pleasing him, the other massaging his nipple, his mouth gently kissing and biting at Akaashi’s elegant shoulder. He was so close, just from Bokuto slowly fingering him, but he refused to let himself go.

Once Akaashi was properly relaxed, Bokuto withdrew his fingers, and earned himself a whine in response. For a moment, Bokuto was frozen: there was something unique about Akaashi with his guard let down so low, laid completely bare in front of Bokuto’s appreciative eyes.

More oil was applied, and Bokuto positioned himself. He did not move, just leaned down to whisper into Akaashi’s ear in the most sultry tone he could manage: ‘Are you ready?’

‘Gods, please.’ Came the response and Akaashi turned his head to catch Bokuto in a sloppy kiss. He was flushed from head to toe, his green eyes dark and hungry, lips swollen from the abundant kisses and from trying to hold himself back. And who was Bokuto to deny that plea?

Akaashi groaned, loud in the quiet forest as Bokuto pushed all the way in. His arms trembled, and if Bokuto hadn’t held him up with an arm across his chest, he’d have fallen onto the furs. Bokuto was quite content to stay there, unmoving, holding Akaashi close to him, peppering little kisses onto Akaashi’s neck, feeling Akaashi adjust around him.

‘Does it hurt?’ Bokuto asked into Akaashi’s shoulder. Akaashi shook his head violently, as if urging Bokuto to move… And move he did. He thrust shallowly, slowly, watching the responses he received from Akaashi. He busied his hands with gently stroking Akaashi’s chest - the sensitive area there made him moan - and stomach, his lips with kissing Akaashi, his tongue with exploring Akaashi’s mouth.

Akaashi loved it slow, it took but a few minutes for Bokuto to realize that. He loved when Bokuto pushed in slow, gradually filling him, and when he dragged out the pleasure. Bokuto discovered that if he angled himself a certain way, he’d hit a spot that caused Akaashi to cry out, and a shiver to run through his body. He noticed the ways in which he could make Akaashi’s fingers claw at the furs, or make his back arch.

Bokuto had always thought Akaashi would be a quiet lover, but he was anything but once he got comfortable. His mewls, moans and groans filled the forest, broken by quiet curses and sighs, and Bokuto’s own. Bokuto loved every moment of it.

His speed increased, and if Akaashi had been falling apart on the edges before, now he crumbled completely. A shout of his name, and Akaashi’s fingers were tanglin with Bokuto’s on the furs as he completely lost himself in the pleasure. Bokuto’s free hand wrapped around Akaashi’s length, stroking him, tipping him over the edge, Bokuto following a few thrusts later. Akaashi came with a shout of Bokuto’s name, spilling over Bokuto’s hand. He slumped forward against the furs, and allowed Bokuto to crudely clean them both off with his shirt - he’ll find a way to worry about washing it later.

Bokuto chucked the shirt to the side, then pulled Akaashi close to his chest. The young man’s breathing was slowing, and when he blinked up at Bokuto, there was a sparkle to his eyes. His hair was a mess - the work of Bokuto’s fingers - and there was a series of red marks on his shoulder and chest, but he still looked stunning. There was a healthy rouge to his cheeks, his lips were a delightful cherry red, and he was smiling freely, so much so that Bokuto just had to lean down and kiss him.

‘I love you.’

‘I know.’ Akaashi said, resting his forehead against Bokuto’s, tracing shapes on Bokuto’s chest with a pale finger. Then, with a laugh: ‘We were meant to ride today. I don’t think this is the kind of riding Kuroo had in mind.’

Bokuto snorted a laugh and kissed Akaashi’s cheek, making him giggle. A single crow flew above them, and he smiled: crows are a sign of change. Then, he grew serious as a memory pushed to the front of his mind, one that the afterglow couldn’t cover, brought upon him by the mention of his friend. ‘Do you think they got away safely?’ The image of Kuroo falling from his horse to enable their escape sent a chill down his spine - he covered them both with one of the furs, the hairs tickling his bare skin.

‘I never doubted it for a second.’ Akaashi said, frowning slightly. ‘They are some of the finest soldiers I’ve seen, and we both know Kuroo has fooled Death many times: she’s his mistress, not his owner.’

Bokuto found himself somewhat calmed by the certainty in Akaashi’s voice, and when the other boy pushed himself up and straddled him once more, any bad thoughts were gone out the window. All that mattered, was Akaashi and him.

✧

The following morning found them asleep in a tangle of limbs by a mostly burned-out fire, small wildcats feasting on the remnants of their dinner. Bokuto blinked awake, shivering slightly in the morning chill. He was happy to the very core in that moment, as he watched Akaashi sleep, still in the afterglow of the previous day.

They hadn’t left one another’s side for a moment - even when hunger drew them to collecting firewood and cooking, they did it together. Kisses were shared among flowering bushes, and later, they lay staring at the stars, Bokuto insistently pushing the thought of danger out of his mind.

It was late morning by the time Akaashi stirred, and they managed to saddle their horses. Bokuto noticed, not without some silly satisfaction, that Akaashi walked with a slight limp. Only when Akaashi hissed in pain as he hauled himself into the saddle, did Bokuto get concerned. He steered his horse over, coming up alongside his lover.

‘Are you alright? Did I hurt you?’

Akaashi blinked at him, as if trying to think of a moment when that could have happened. That alone made Bokuto feel better, but he still awaited Akaashi’s answer, watching every twitch of his face.

‘Oh,’ Akaashi exclaimed as if he’d finally caught on: Bokuto had the impression that he’d been teasing him. ‘No, I like it, it feels good.’

Bokuto flushed beet red and didn’t say another word as they cantered down the forest road, Akaashi giggling quietly to himself at the redness in Bokuto’s cheeks.

✧

They slowed to a walk in a clearing to give the horses a break. Akaashi took the occasion to fish out a flask from his saddlebags and take a deep drink. Bokuto watched the elegant motion of his throat, the cherry red of his lips and looked away, frustrated at himself. Akaashi laughed.

A group of magpies took flight somewhere too their left, and, swooping low, flew in front of them, further into the forest. Bokuto counted them as they passed, murmuring the rhyme his father had taught him as a young child:

 _One for sorrow, Two for joy,_  
Three for a girl, Four for a boy,  
Five for silver, Six for gold,  
Seven for a secret, never to be told.  
Eight for a wish, **Nine for a kiss** ,  
Ten for a bird, you must not miss.

‘Birds!’ He announced, a little dumbly, watching the last flash of white disappear between the trees.

‘Magpies,’ Akaashi said. He smiled to himself and, leaning over in the saddle, grabbed a fistful of Bokuto’s shirt, pulling him closer. Bokuto’s mind blanked completely for a moment, when Akaashi’s lips made contact with his own. He wondered if it would always be like this with Akaashi: green, and new and exciting. He blinked at Akaashi when they pulled away, trying to see what provoked the incredibly pleasant action. Akaashi smiled, cheek dimpling a little. ‘Nine for a kiss, isn’t it?’

Bokuto laughed and drew him in for another. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I skim read over this before posting to think of a suitable summary and what tags I need to add I just thought: “wow, I write some cheesy porn”, and yeah, I do. It sums up my writing pretty well.
> 
> I also had no idea what to call this chapter so...


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi murmured his name in his sleep, and Bokuto forgot all about his worry: the sound was sweeter than honey. He glanced down at Akaashi, all rosy cheeks and long lashes, and kissed his forehead, settling back down to sleep.

Bokuto couldn’t help his stupid, _stupid_ pride swelling at the sight of the lovebites adorning Akaashi’s porcelain skin, peeking out from the unlaced collar of his white shirt as they sat and ate. After travelling for a few days, they had stopped for the night at the bank of a river: Bokuto suspected it was the Great Blue itself or one of it’s countless estuaries. He had never studied geography to greater detail than the general placement of the Kingdoms, so it was hardly a surprise that he had no idea where he was.

‘Do you think there’s time for a swim?’ Akaashi asked, and Bokuto looked up at the sun without even seeing it. He was already sold on the idea. ‘I don’t fancy getting bitten by the  _noghtkyorm_ in the middle of nowhere.’

 _Noghtkyorm_ were a plague in Fukurodani’s rivers. Long and eel-like, they came out exclusively after nightfall and fed on the blood of humans and other creatures. Apparently, the Olden Races could control them and use them to their bidding, but when Bokuto had tried entering the mind of one with the Skill, he’d ended up with a headache and a nasty, bleeding bite. He’d have preferred not to repeat that experience, especially far away from civilization and any means of numbing the excruciating pain that followed a _noghtkyorm_ bite.

‘Probably,’ Bokuto said.

Akaashi hadn’t waited long enough to hear it: he was already undressed, his pants and shirt haphazardly draped over the trunk of a tree, growing sideways over the water, his boots lying in the dust by the fire. He stuck his toe in the water and Bokuto snickered as Akaashi swore horribly. He didn’t know he could swear like that.

‘It’s fucking freezing!’ Akaashi called, trying again. He got ankle deep before Bokuto, having hurriedly thrown off his clothes, tackled him into the water. Akaashi cried out as the freezing water enveloped them both. ‘ _Gods_ , Bokuto!’

Bokuto tried to defend himself as best as he could against the wild splashing that followed - Akaashi did his best to get his revenge - but eventually gave up and joined in the fight. They wrestled in the water like young children, swimming out to deeper water, until the current was so strong they could barely stand, then diving back down and racing one another to the shore. It was cold, but Bokuto could hardly feel it with the exhilaration of it all.

✧

The sun was beginning to dip behind the tips of the tallest trees by the time they began to clamber out of the river, smiles on both of their faces. Akaashi stood on the grassy bank, drying his hair, trying to smooth it down, all while giving Bokuto an impressive view of the way his back muscles moved. Bokuto came up behind him, arms around his waist, pulling him in close.

Water from Akaashi’s hair dripped down onto Bokuto’s chest: tiny little droplets of ice. He kissed Akaashi’s jaw, nipped his earlobe, then gently kissed his neck and shoulder, kissing away the little droplets of water clinging to Akaashi’s skin, making him giggle.

Akaashi turned in his embrace and caught his lips, kissing him, fingers tangling in Bokuto’s own hair. The kiss deepened and Bokuto slowly began to lose himself in the sensation, in the feeling of Akaashi’s lips and his body pressed flush against his, in the scent of freshwater and the forest around them.

It was always like this, since that night when Bokuto kissed him for the very first time. They would ride for the day, and then, in the evening, set up camp, eat, and enjoy one another’s company. Sometimes they made love, sometimes they did not. Loving and being with Akaashi was like that; spontaneous, exciting and _wonderful_.

Akaashi kissed him hard and Bokuto returned back to the present. Akaashi smiled at him, innocently, before moving down to follow the path Bokuto had taken on his body days before. He kissed slowly along Bokuto’s jaw, left gentle little bites down Bokuto’s throat, shoulder and chest, going further still...

‘This… this wasn’t what I was aiming for...’ Bokuto managed, flustered and embarrassingly aroused, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He hadn’t known he was so sensitive - or that Akaashi knew how to make him feel so good.

‘Should I stop?’ Akaashi asked, and Bokuto looked down to meet his eyes. A breathless “gods..” escaped his lips, because Akaashi had no business looking so beautiful kneeling in front of him in the grass, fireflies dancing around him, the dying sunlight illuminating his face. Akaashi raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer, a knowing smirk spreading across his face, making him look both deadly and beautiful…

‘I- no…’ Bokuto managed, entranced.

✧

When the golden haze finally cleared, Bokuto found himself on his back on the furs, staring up at the sky. He shivered, suddenly cold, and a blanket was immediately dropped over him. With a faint rustle, Akaashi lay down next to him, and kissed his temple.

‘We should do that more often,’ said Bokuto, after he found his voice. Akaashi chuckled, and rested his cheek on his shoulder, but Bokuto did not miss the fraction of a second when his eyes had turned wishful, almost sad.

‘We will,’ Akaashi whispered, and his voice was tinged with sadness.

✧

Bokuto knew that cleaning his weaponry was one of the things that helped Akaashi think or relax. Even now, far away from his court responsibilities, Akaashi was sitting on a fallen tree trunk, his sword in his lap, and a rag in his hand. He hadn’t said a word in an hour or so, but Bokuto didn’t mind.

He didn’t mind, because while he sat there, watching Akaashi over the flames of the campfire, he had come to a conclusion: he would not mind - not in the slightest - if his life was nothing more but that from then on. He wouldn’t mind waking up to Akaashi’s sleepy smiles and tousled hair every morning, wouldn’t mind hearing his high-pitched laugh over dinner, and wouldn’t mind spending quiet evenings like these with him, for the rest of his life. He wouldn’t mind making love to him however Akaashi wanted it - slow or rough - either, but _that_ didn’t need to be said.

Bokuto would be the happiest man alive if he could marry Akaashi Keiji. Not the _Crown Prince_ , not the _High Lord_ … he didn’t care about social standing, about titles and all that nonsense. All he wanted, was the love of his life.

 _But you can’t…_ a tiny voice whispered at the back of his head. _You’re not worth the dust on his shoes, you don’t have the right to even court him, let alone hope to be accepted…_

Akaashi looked up from his work and smiled at him, warm and lovely. The tiny voice silenced immediately when Akaashi sheathed his sword and moved to sit beside Bokuto, pulling him into a kiss. It didn’t pipe up again.

✧

Bokuto woke when his mind, left vacant and unprotected in his sleep, filled with a manic chant of _danger… danger… danger…_ Shortly after, a spooked herd of deer fled through the clearing and further on, toward the South. Their bulging eyes and red-tinted fur caught the light from the dying embers, giving them an almost eerie appearance.

Bokuto propped himself up on his elbows, careful not to wake Akaashi, and strained his ears. The forest was silent, save for the hoot of an owl or a rustle as a nighttime predator caught it’s prey. The usual sounds of a forest.

Unsatisfied, he reached out with the Skill, as far as it would go. Nothing. Just sleeping game, some owls… noghtkyorm in a nearby river. Nothing that could have spooked the deer, which by now, had left his reach. Perhaps it was far away, or never existed in the first place.

It wasn’t enough. Many times he’d heard the stories of the monsters that roamed these parts, nightwraiths and the like. He didn’t know if he could sense monsters, and that unsettled him. He felt his sword, right within reach, and lay back down, frowning. A snapping branch startled him, but when he reached out in that direction, there was nothing there…

Akaashi murmured his name in his sleep, and Bokuto forgot all about his worry: the sound was sweeter than honey. He glanced down at Akaashi, all rosy cheeks and long lashes, and kissed his forehead, settling back down to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi was originally _cleaning his sword_ before I edited it, because I decided it would be one innuendo too many.
> 
> This was meant to be yesterday’s (Friday’s) update but I felt so bad I couldn’t even think about editing. Ah well. Here we are, two chapters to make up for it.
> 
> We‘re getting closer to the end, with 2 chapters to go. I’ll take this opportunity to thank everyone who‘s commented (your comments have a special place in my screenshots <3) and/or taken the time to read!


	6. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto snatched his pants, tugged them on without bothering to button them, and ran, reaching for his shirt and weapon as he went, not quite willing to die naked with the clear marks of lovemaking still on his body. A glance over his shoulder as he vaulted over a fallen log to the clump of trees where they’d left their horses, told him that Akaashi had managed to do the same - only the furs suggested that someone had been camping on the riverbank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, friends. It’s nice to have a friend to be the voice of reason sometimes, but it never feels good when they shoot you down from cloud nine.

Some days later, when Bokuto’s head was resting on Akaashi’s chest, his lover absentmindedly tracing circles into his lower back, he heard horses, approaching their little camp at a gallop. Immediately, the memory of the spooked deer pushed to the front of his mind. 

‘Riders!’ Bokuto scrambled up off the bedding, clenching his jaw at the resulting dull pain. Akaashi looked confused for a moment before his mind cleared and he too, jumped into action.

Bokuto snatched his pants, tugged them on without bothering to button them, and ran, reaching for his shirt and weapon as he went, not quite willing to die naked with the clear marks of lovemaking still on his body. A glance over his shoulder as he vaulted over a fallen log to the clump of trees where they’d left their horses, told him that Akaashi had managed to do the same - only the furs suggested that someone had been camping on the clearing. Bokuto knew that if someone were to inspect them closer, they’d still be warm from their body heat - a dead give away that they were near and unprepared.

They waited, tense, Bokuto with his sword at the ready, Akaashi with his bow drawn, as the sound of hooves grew closer and closer. Bokuto’s heart felt like it would jump out of his chest. He couldn’t sense the horses to count them, his mind exhausted after the things Akaashi made him feel as he slowly, slowly made love to him earlier– it was a bad time to think about that, though. They could be facing anything between two riders and twenty, and all that Bokuto felt was left to him was to pray to the Gods that today was not their day either, just like that day in the valley hadn’t been. He’d die half dressed and raging like a barbarian, while the High Lord… he glanced at Akaashi and winced. Scratch marks covered Akaashi’s back - Bokuto’s handiwork.

Three riders entered the clearing, light bouncing off the weapons they held at the ready, and Bokuto felt like he was ready to collapse with relief when he recognized them as their lost companions, mostly unharmed, although worry prickled in Bokuto’s gut at the sight of Kuroo, slumped in his saddle. Akaashi too, recognized them, and dropped his arrow. He began to lace up his shirt, cursing quietly at the ridiculous laces.

Bokuto would have helped him, but Ukai was already dismounting… he was left with no choice but to stumble forward, greet them, and to pretend like they hadn’t interrupted anything.

✧

Kuroo leaned heavily on Bokuto as he helped him off his horse, then to sit on a log they’d dragged over to their makeshift campsite the previous night. He cradled his arm to his chest and stretched his leg out in front of him as Ukai filled Akaashi in on the days gone by.

After Akaashi and Bokuto’s escape, they had fought a battle for their lives until the tide slowly began to turn. Daichi had managed to capture one of their attackers, and the wounded Kuroo interrogated him to find that, contrary to what they suspected, the bandits were not hired by an influential player from the court, or by Akaashi’s father himself. They had simply been one of the forests’ many gangs preying on unsuspecting travellers, and had no idea the prince and his guard were to be passing through.

‘What did you do with him?’ Bokuto could feel Akaashi’s unease reverberating off of him when the question hung in the air. He glanced at the others, trying to see if they caught on, too.

‘Delivered the King’s justice,’ apparently Ukai had not noticed his prince’s discomfort. ‘Swift and clean, didn’t even had a chance to scream.’

‘Oh.’ Akaashi’s eyes were fixed on the now-burning fire in the centre of the campsite. ‘Good.’ Bokuto could see him push the approval out. Moving on instinct, he shuffled closer to him, sitting flush against his side, hoping he could be of some comfort…

Akaashi didn’t react. He sat ramrod straight, staring into the fire.

✧

The crickets had never been so loud… or maybe he had been too preoccupied with enjoying everything Akaashi was willing to give to notice them. But as Bokuto sat, leaning against Kuroo’s knees as his friend lay on the furs, nursing an injury from a poisoned arrow, they were almost deafening. The horses were unsaddled and bound with plenty of water and grass. The remainder of their dinner had been cleared away and the bedding had been arranged in a neat fashion. There is nothing for Bokuto to do: before, he would’ve sidled up to Akaashi, looped an arm around his waist and pulled him close, or kissed him when he wasn’t looking, taking his attention away from the intricate map of the Fukurodani territories. Instead, he was stuck watching the elegant column of Akaashi’s throat and some of his exposed collarbone from where his shirt had slid down, revealing golden skin, as he talked matters of state with Ukai.

‘Something happened between you two.’ Kuroo’s whisper pulled him away from Akaashi. Bokuto turned to his friend, unable to resist the grin already spreading across his face.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ Bokuto felt like his face was about to split open from the grin, as happiness radiated off of him in waves.

Kuroo snorted a laugh, then winced at the pain. ‘Tell me.’

And tell him Bokuto did. In a hushed whisper, broken by excited giggling, and wary of Daichi, sleeping a few feet away, Bokuto told his best friend the story. His ears reddened when he implied the more intimate parts and Kuroo’s smirk deepened as he stuttered over their kisses. ‘It sounds like something from Nekomata’s romance novels.’ Kuroo finally said, grinning at his friend.

A moment passed like that, the two of them grinning at one another, elated at Bokuto’s happiness. Then Kuroo frowned, as he began to digest the story, taking it apart, like he always did.

‘What did you say he said, before...’ Kuroo glanced at Daichi, snoring softly. The guard slept soundly, trying to get as much rest as he could before taking on second watch. Kuroo frowned at him.

Bokuto hesitated, brows drawing together. His heart sped up as he thought over that first time, the two of them under the sky, green and new and… he frowned at the warmth pooling in his chest at the very memory. Akaashi had said something strange that time, something Bokuto had been too … too happy, too aroused to think twice about.

‘He said… “I want you for as long as I have” or something like that.’

‘And what do you think he meant?’ Kuroo adjusted himself on the furs, and Bokuto sat back. A part of him wanted to get up and leave, to get away from the bad feeling that was starting to tingle in his toes. But he sat firm, allowing Kuroo to advise him. As much as Kuroo had played pranks on him before, he’d never, ever given him bad advice in matters of the heart. Kuroo was a true friend, a brother.

‘I don’t know, I’ve been too happy to think about it.’ Bokuto scratched his head, behind his ear. He did not like where the conversation was headed.

‘You should talk to him about it.’ Kuroo covered himself with a blanket up to his shoulders, closing his eyes. ‘I need to rest.’

✧

That evening was hell for Bokuto. It was like sitting on a bed of needles or kneeling on beans. He could not get Kuroo’s words out of his head, the premonition hanging in the air above his head. And to make matters worse, Akaashi stayed out of reach all evening. Apparently there had been complications in regard to the transfer of ownership of Shinzen and Akaashi’s new High Lord title. “Nothing to worry about,” Ukai had assured them all, before he whisked Akaashi off for a hushed conversation by the fire, just when Bokuto had managed to have him all to himself for a moment.

Fed up with waiting and nerve-wracked, Bokuto went to bed, stretching out on his bedding, painfully alone, on the far side of the campfire. He heard the jingle of metal as Ukai disarmed and climbed into his own bed, then the sound of Daichi rising to take second watch, yet Sleep still eluded him, dancing around him, caressing her face with her cool fingers but never quite there…

There was the slight whisper of grass and a cool breeze over his shoulders as the blanket was lifted and Akaashi slid into the bedding beside him, arms immediately wrapping around Bokuto’s middle, pulling him closer. He felt himself relax at the familiar warmth, the feeling of Akaashi flush against his back, the gentle drum of his heart… Just before his eyes shut, Bokuto felt Daichi stop by their bedding on his rounds, felt his eyes linger on them curiously. But Daichi moved off without a word, and Sleep finally took Bokuto into her domain.

The following morning progressed under the strict guidance of Ukai, and they rode for the entirety of the day. The High Lord and his retinue - all but Bokuto - wanted to make up for time lost in the fight and following separation, as not to keep the citizens of Shinzen waiting. By the time Bokuto finished with the horses, it was well into the evening, and Daichi and Kuroo were bickering as they roasted the game Bokuto had led them to hours before.

It was Akaashi who caught Bokuto by the arm and tugged him into the forest under the pretext of gathering firewood for the night. Bokuto could not control the sadness he’d fought to keep from his face all day much longer as thoughts, fuelled by the mysterious “for as long as I have” swirled in his head, and Akaashi immediately caught on to it. He stopped and tucked a strand of Bokuto’s hair behind his ear, a frown creasing his beautiful face.

‘What’s wrong, _serdushko_?’ _Serdushko_ , a pet name reserved for the dearest of lovers, meaning “my heart”, or “my dearest”…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter, oops. Also another example of me and my habit of making up words... _noghtkyorm, serdushko_ ehh.
> 
> Kuroo’s back, a little worse for wear but don’t worry he makes it. As the story begins to wrap up, I already want to write more, pfft...


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the story comes to a close, Bokuto and Akaashi have a serious conversation about the future of their relationship, Bokuto represses murderous urges toward magpies, and the trio arrive at their destination, where they find not everything is like it seems. Mulled wine, a pidgeon and Kuroo are a recipe for genius plans, and Bokuto decides he's sick of waiting idly for Fortune to smile upon him.

Bokuto was silent, admiring Akaashi’s face - so close to his own, for the first time in what felt like forever - instead of answering his question. Even though he’d been planning to have Akaashi all to himself for the better part of that day and the day before, he was suddenly at a loss. What was he meant to say? “I can’t live like this,” and force Akaashi to go public about their relationship - was it even a relationship to him? - before he was ready? “What did you mean when you said that? Is this just a fling to you?” and make assumptions right off the bat? Usually a creature of impulse, Bokuto found himself overthinking.

 

‘Bokuto?’ Akaashi asked again, and stroked Bokuto’s cheek with his thumb. Green eyes fixed on Bokuto’s own, and he could tell Akaashi was trying his damnedest to read him. 

 

‘Keiji,’ Bokuto pulled Akaashi in closer, resting his cheek against Akaashi’s hair. He had hoped the affection would give him courage, but it just reminded him how badly he did not want to live without it. He closed his eyes. ‘I’ve been thinking.’

 

‘What about?’ Akaashi’s hand tangled in Bokuto’s hair, combing through it. If Bokuto’s heart wasn’t hammering like crazy, he might’ve let out a content sigh. 

 

‘About what you said, that time… before…’ Bokuto paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and tried again. This was going to be difficult, but postponing it by even a moment longer would be the end of him. ‘Before you kissed me that night. You said you… want me,’ the last words were barely above a whisper, as Bokuto found himself getting shy. ‘for  _ as long as we have _ .’

 

Bokuto felt Akaashi tense in his arms, felt the hand in his hair stop moving, then withdraw completely as Akaashi took a step back, out of Bokuto’s arms. They stood and looked at one another in the moonlight breaking through the forest canopy. Akaashi’s face did not suggest anything of his thoughts or feelings.

 

‘I knew this was coming.’ Akaashi spoke, and Bokuto was surprised to find his voice was shaking as Akaashi buried his fists deep in his pockets. ‘I should have told you sooner, but I couldn’t bring myself to make you… upset.’

 

Bokuto just watched him thread words together, heart hammering as he prepared for the worst, for Akaashi to say that he didn’t love Bokuto like Bokuto loved  _ him _ , to say that it was all a fling, an event brought about by the sudden unrestrained freedom granted by the travels and his father’s absence. Akaashi took a step forward, rested a hand on Bokuto’s chest, avoiding his gaze. The touch burned down to Bokuto’s bones.

 

‘You know how things are…’ Akaashi began. ‘...about relationships between those that are considered highborn and those that are not.’ Bokuto opened his mouth to speak, to beg him to say that social norms are bullshit, but Akaashi continued, words spilling out of him like a river. ‘I… I was neither of those for a moment. And I let myself think that if I did what I wanted-’ Akaashi still didn’t look up, insistently staring at his hand, resting on Bokuto’s chest. Bokuto guessed he could feel his heart. ‘and I wanted  _ you _ . I wanted to show you just how much I fucking love you. I thought it would be fine, that I’d figure something out before we get to Shinzen. But I was wrong, and I think a part of me knew even then.’

 

Bokuto swore he heard his own heart break at the words. At the tears in Akaashi’s eyes, at the broken tone to his voice. Bokuto moved, pulling Akaashi closer to him, kissing his forehead, feeling the tears begin to seep into his shirt. Everything he’d feared - and worse - was coming true right before his very eyes. Akaashi  _ did _ love him; but that meant that when this was over, Bokuto would not be only hurting himself, but would have to watch Akaashi hurt and not be able to do anything about it.

 

‘It might be months, even years before I can figure something out, something that won’t end with your head on a pike for attempting to court…’ Akaashi paused, embarrassed. ‘Or for bedding… someone highborn. I can do whatever you want to do. We could… keep it secret, although that wouldn’t be easy, and the price for being caught...’

 

‘You know I love you,’ Bokuto said, and kissed his forehead again. ‘More than anything in the world. But we can’t live like that.  _ I _ can’t live like that.’ Words failed him:  _ you deserve someone you can be happy with, someone you can be as open with as you like, not just a nighttime lover. You deserve to be showered in love and affection in front of everyone, not just behind closed doors. _ But deep in his heart, he knew Akaashi understood him without words. ‘The last few days just proved that.’

 

‘When, then?’ Akaashi’s voice broke with the question, and his breath was hot on Bokuto’s chest, as he kissed a mop of curly black hair once again. ‘It will hurt the same.’

 

Bokuto thought about it for a moment, listening to Akaashi’s heartbeat and the sounds of the forest around him. Somewhere in the distance, he could sense a mother doe keeping watch over her sleeping baby.

 

‘We have a week of travel left until we arrive in Shinzen.’ The stability of his own voice surprised him, as did his capacity to think logically when his heart felt like it’d been pierced with a thousand arrows. ‘I’d like to make the most of the time I have been allowed with you, if you’ll let me.’

 

As Akaashi finally lifted his head, Bokuto felt his heart break a little more. He wiped the tears from Akaashi’s cheeks, but he couldn’t wipe away the hurt deep in Akaashi’s beautiful eyes, the little tremble to his lips as he leaned up and kissed him. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the heartbroken call of a swan mourning it’s mate. Slowly, sweetly, savouring every moment, every detail, more so now that their days were counted. Bokuto tried to memorize all of it, focus on  _ all of it _ \- the way Akaashi’s hands always trembled, the way he preferred having them folded at his chest or caught in Bokuto’s shirt rather than anywhere else, the little happy sigh that escaped him whenever Bokuto hugged him that little bit tighter, and how he loved when Bokuto kissed the right spot along his jaw.

 

A light drizzle broke them apart, brought them back into reality. Akaashi wiped the tears from his eyes and Bokuto set about gathering the firewood they’d meant to be collecting. A lone magpie stole a twig right from under his fingers.  _ One for sorrow… _ he almost threw a stick after it.

 

✧

 

Over the following days, Bokuto found himself wishing that Daichi, Kuroo and Ukai would just disappear again. He and Akaashi were keeping their relationship secret from them - with the exception of Kuroo, who was too observant for his own good, and whom Bokuto had already told - and Bokuto found it largely inconveniencing. Their presence also meant they were nearing the border at a steady pace, rather than the slow, almost casual rate Bokuto and Akaashi had travelled at when they were alone. He wished he could have Akaashi again -  _ his _ Akaashi, the Akaashi without his walls up, without his princely manner - if just for a day.

 

The times Bokuto and Akaashi managed to have one another just to themselves were quick, rushed, but exhilarating all the same - they sneaked kisses behind horses’ backs, behind saddles in the morning when they sleepily saddled their horses. Collecting firewood became their favourite chore, and their short, half-hour dates. At night, Akaashi would quietly shuffle across the furs to sleep, limbs entwined with Bokuto’s, but by dawn, he was always gone, back in his own bedding. Other nights, when they weren’t quite so tired, they’d sneak away into the forest to enjoy one another without fear of making noise. Bokuto treasured each and every moment, tried to memorise every inch of Akaashi’s skin displayed to him, every smile, every tear that rolled down his love’s cheeks. The ache, deep in his chest, was ever-present, dulled only in those moments of passion in the forest, when he could forget about the past and future, and just enjoy what was  _ there _ and  _ then _ .

 

Bokuto clenched his jaw as he swayed in the saddle. Last night had left him sated and practically  _ glowing _ , but also left his muscles sore and a number of dark bruises up his thighs - riding a horse in these circumstances was far from ideal. If Akaashi was as sore as he was, he didn’t let on. He sat straight in the saddle, riding at the front of their caravan flanked by Daichi and Ukai as they neared the goal of their journey… the end of the most wonderful period in Bokuto’s life.

 

‘We have arrived, my lord. These are your lands.’ Ukai’s voice barely reached Bokuto’s ears as he took in the land in front of them. The forest had given way to a vast expanse of rolling grassland, tall grass dancing with the wind that had picked up out of nowhere. A dilapidated picket fence drew the line between Fukurodani territory and the Shinzen lands. Far of in the distance, Bokuto could just about make out the rising plumes of smoke from the settlement, and sense the odd livestock. 

 

As Akaashi took out a change of clothes - more appropriate for a High Lord - from the saddlebags and dipped into the forest to change, Bokuto’s attention was caught by a group of birds, initially a few dark dots against the blue sky. As they drew closer, he saw they were magpies, swooping low over the fields in front of them. _One, two, three…_ _four… five, six… seven_. He almost laughed out loud as the rhyme returned to him: _seven for a secret, never to be told_. Snapping a branch off a nearby bush, he hurled it at the flock. It fell short, landing somewhere in the tall grass without so much as grazing it’s target. Kuroo must have noticed him, and steered his horse closer to his friend, shielding him from Ukai’s view. Bokuto couldn’t decide if he was grateful for his friend’s concern, or angered by his pity. 

 

‘Are you okay?’ Kuroo asked, steadying his horse, giddy at the idea of a run.

 

Bokuto just shook his head, unable to speak. Daichi looked back at him, eyebrow raised, and Bokuto gave him what he hoped was a convincing smile. As soon as Daichi turned back around, Bokuto slid from the saddle, completely out of view. Kuroo jumped down beside him, looping an arm around his friend’s shoulders.

 

‘If you need to disappear just nod at me,’ Kuroo’s arm was warm around Bokuto’s shoulders, and he realized he was shaking. ‘I’ll figure something out. We could go back to Fukurodani, into the forest for a while, or wherever the hell we feel like going. Let you figure this mess out.’

 

With a sigh, Kuroo unpinned his cloak and draped it over Bokuto’s shoulders, pulling the hood up. The thick black material was warm, but Bokuto still felt cold to his very core. Dread - that’s what it was - rolled deep in his chest. He swallowed thickly and tried to even his breathing.  _ Don’t let it show _ . Kuroo drew him in for a short hug, clapping him on the back, and, when he felt Bokuto relax slightly, climbed back onto his horse, leaving Bokuto wearing his cloak.

 

Bokuto heard the crack of branches as Akaashi stepped out of the forest. He took it as his cue to re-mount, and hauled himself back up, not without some difficulty. Only when he was settled, the cloak draped somewhat-elegantly over his legs, did he finally brace himself, and look up. Akaashi stole his breath away. For the past while, he had been wearing simple shirts, pants and boots. But now, Akaashi looked the part of the High Lord. His white shirt was embroidered with golden thread, laced up to the very top of his elegant throat. A crimson cloak, the hood tipped with black fur spilled over his shoulders and down over his horse’s rump. His boots were haphazardly polished - no one had bothered to bring a change of boots, and they had hardly brought things to polish his previous ones -  and the jewelled hilt of a sword shone at his belt. He looked beautiful, the finery of his clothes only further accentuating the fact that he was of royal blood, and thus Bokuto’s forbidden fruit… His Akaashi had went into that forest, but the Akaashi that had come out of it was a High Lord, not his lover. 

 

Akaashi steered his horse over to Bokuto, and reached out a hand, grabbing Bokuto by the front of Kuroo’s cloak. Bokuto barely heard Daichi laugh nervously, his eyes fixed on Akaashi’s own. Akaashi leaned in slowly, and kissed him, perfectly aware of the three pairs of eyes trained incredulously on them both. Ukai echoed a quiet “your highness…” as he realized what this meant, but Akaashi didn’t stop. One trembling, cold hand on Bokuto’s cheek, the other fisted in his cloak as he fought to keep his balance in the saddle, he kissed Bokuto. Softly, sweetly, chastely, as if he was trying to take the feeling and engrave it on his heart. Then he pulled away, and the kiss was over before it even began.

 

‘I’m sorry.’ Akaashi said, and Bokuto noticed, with a wince, that there were tears in his eyes. ‘I just wanted to- one last time.’

 

Bokuto gave him a smile: he hoped Akaashi understood the “ _ I love you _ ” he’d tried to convey without words. 

 

‘I’ll figure something out. Wait for me.’ Akaashi turned on his horse and, taking a deep breath, urged his horse onward into a canter, Ukai and Daichi following close after. 

 

‘Well I’ll be damned.’ Kuroo’s voice was hushed as  he stared at something to Bokuto’s left. A robin landed on the fencepost nearest him, singing sweetly. ‘A robin for patience.’

 

‘I have had enough of this symbolism crap.’ Bokuto snorted and, begrudgingly, nudged his horse after Akaashi and the rest, and the party crossed the Shinzen border. Bokuto felt his heart shatter with the movement - crossing the border by itself did not do anything, but what it symbolised… what he’d let it symbolise… was the crushing of his happiness, his dreams, his heart. All left on the lips of a boy dressed in white, red and gold, riding proudly on a dapple gray. That very thought sent a stab of pain through Bokuto’s chest. It was over. It was no longer a matter of days or hours, it was now, and it was over. The haphazard fence was a symbol of the definite end, even though in real life it was nothing more but a poorly maintained attempt at defense. 

 

✧

 

To get to Shinzen Keep, the party needed to ride through the settlement itself. Bokuto didn’t know what to expect, but from the hard set of Akaashi’s shoulders - who was refusing to look at him - he could tell he did not expect… what they saw… either. The houses were dilapidated, and the people’s faces were sunken, hollow. Here and there, the windows and doors of houses are boarded up, red crosses painted on the planks. There were no children playing. A chill ran down Bokuto’s spine - it was as if the village had had it’s life stolen from it. From a glance at Ukai and Daichi, he could tell they were thinking the same thing. Kuroo rode closer to him, looking around himself with unease, a hand under his cloak where Bokuto knew he kept his daggers.

 

‘Is it just me, or did the books say that this place was a fertile, rich land blessed by the Gods?’ Daichi rode up beside them both, hand on the hilt of his sword as he leaned over. 

 

Kuroo looks at him and narrows his eyes: ‘They all said that.’

 

The Keep itself did not look much better. They were greeted in the courtyard - in reality a messily cobbled open space just inside the dilapidated walls, mostly overrun with ivy and moss - by a robed man. One look at him was enough for Kuroo to frown and Bokuto to feel as if he was in danger. The man was somewhere between fifty and ancient, with long, spindly fingers and greedy, beady eyes. He pointedly ignored the three; only Akaashi and Ukai deserved his time, being the new High Lord and an ordained knight. He bowed at something Akaashi said, and turns to leave. Ukai rode up beside his High Lord and - not without displeasure, commented that it seemed Akaashi’s father, the King had devised a test for him - surviving the untrustworthy court priest and the economic depression, in exchange for a title and lands of his own.

 

Bokuto could see why the King gave away Shinzen so easily. It’s defence was nothing more than a rotten fence, it’s people were old and largely resigned on life, it’s court was ran by a man that  _ reeked _ of greed, and the Keep itself was far from a respectable home. If Akaashi wanted to become anything in this world, he would have to start small. He would have to show he could bring a place like Shinzen up from the ashes if he was to ever rule all of Fukurodani.

 

✧

 

Bokuto’s rooms were hardly more than a drafty room above the stables, severely in need of repair - like everything else in the Keep. In that setting, Bokuto found the mulled wine in his saddlebags and climbed onto an abandoned haystack just outside his window, intending to drink himself stupid - to drown out the pain in his heart and the hopelessness in his head.

 

‘Blessed by the gods and fertile  _ my ass. _ ’ Bokuto scoffed to himself and the lone pigeon, watching him with a single beady eye. 

 

From his perch, he could see a majority of the keep - including the light burning in Akaashi’s windows. In reality, Shinzen was the exact opposite: cursed and long past its prime. There were four members of staff in the hold, besides himself, Kuroo, Ukai and Daichi - and those were the High Priest, whose craft was that of intrigue and double meanings, not religion. Bokuto had known him for approximately four hours, and he already hated him and his three assistants, dark-haired, dark-eyed girls that remind Bokuto of the mythological wraiths. There was a sixth, a quiet mage, with hair fading from brown to blond, that Kuroo immediately attempted to befriend, but he was not staff per say. The land was severely blighted, and according to the priest, the harvest hadn’t been any more than just enough to allow the people to barely survive in ten years. There were no animals in the hold besides the horses they’d brought; not  _ really _ . One donkey belonging to the Priest, who simply snorted when Bokuto tried to reach out to him with the Skill, five half-wild chickens, and a hawk, old, bald  and wheezy.

 

Kuroo appeared out of the shadows, and clambered - somewhat clumsily - up beside him. Bokuto handed him the bottle without a word, and the newly-appointed Court Spymaster took a long, long swig. And just like that, it is exactly how the story began, before Akaashi even came into their lives. The two of them, on a haystack, comfortable in one another’s silence.

 

‘ _ Will _ you wait for him?’ Kuroo asked, referencing what Akaashi had said, before they’d crossed the border.

 

‘No,’ Bokuto had made up his mind sometime between that kiss and the moment he completed his first rounds as the Gamekeeper. ‘I can’t just sit around and let him figure everything out.’

 

‘What are you going to do, then?’ Kuroo gave Bokuto back the bottle of mulled wine and Bokuto drank from it, wincing at the taste. He was never quite fond of wine - he preferred beer or apple cider. 

 

‘I’m going to leave,’ Bokuto smiled to himself at the surprise painted on Kuroo’s face. ‘I’m going to go somewhere - maybe even Aoba Johsai or Karasuno or Fukurodani - where I can get knighted. Win myself a title.’

 

‘And earn the status to-’ Kuroo’s voice was filled with amazement as he processed Bokuto's plan. 

 

‘To court Akaashi.’ Bokuto nodded. He was determined not to just sit around idly and wait for good fortune to come for him. He was going to fight for what he wanted - for what Akaashi  _ deserved _ . Kuroo laughed, loud in the night air, and clapped Bokuto on the back, something like pride shining in his face, but there was a question in his eyes. ‘This is something I need to do alone.’ Bokuto told him and Kuroo nodded, slowly. He didn’t move his hand, and they just sat there, arms around each other’s shoulders, alone yet together in the cold night.

 

✧

 

Before long, Bokuto was back on the open road, completely and utterly alone this time, his horse trotting along the dusty road at a cheery pace. His sword was nestled in it’s sheath, a parting gift from Ukai, his saddlebags were full of provisions, the cloak Kuroo had gifted him was warm around his shoulders. Akaashi’s necklace - a carnelian pendant, glinting in the sun - was safe on his chest as he headed out toward the great unknown. He didn’t know what lay ahead, but he knew his aim. He would earn himself a title or knighthood - he’d settle at  _ Ser _ but minor Lord Bokuto Koutarou didn’t sound too shabby either - and then come home. He turned in his saddle, watching as Vos Nouca disappeared in the distance.  _ Home _ . Home to Akaashi, if he will still want him, home to Kuroo and all the others.  _ Home _ … Smiling to himself, Bokuto spurred his horse onward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's over, whoa. 
> 
> This is the bittersweet ending - because as much as I _love_ happy ever afters, I didn't feel like it was the right end for this particular story. But it ends on a hopeful note, or at least I think so. Bokuto sets out to make a name for himself and Akaashi got to Shinzen safely. 
> 
> I might write a little... what's it called... epilogue?... one of these days but again, no promises, school is kicking my ass.
> 
> I loved writing this, and reading your comments, y'all are too cute.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is part of a series of fics revolving around 3 (or 4) different relationships in the same setting. One of them is hinted at in the last chapter, but it is not necessary to read the others to understand this one - which makes sense, since I haven't gotten around to even planning the others, oops.
> 
> Feel free to leave comments/constructive criticism!
> 
> You can come yell at me on Twitter: [@merrihael](https://twitter.com/merrihael)!
> 
>  **P.S** if someone knows how to tag better than I do, please do help, I am stuck.
> 
> Come yell at me about Haikyuu!! or bokuaka or dogs or anything else on Twitter ( **@fortainne** )!


End file.
